Mei X Miriam Novels & Stories

Pack leadership that had seen disruption and had responded to it the only way they knew how, with medication and restriction and the particular kind of management that gets called protection when it is actually containment. Less malicious than Mensah. Not less damaging. Miriam was working both territories simultaneously with the focused intensity she brought to everything. Cross referencing. Finding the threads. Adding names to the record one by one. She found three names in the first adjacent territory in the seventh month. Two women and one man. All historical. All in the permanent record now with whatever Miriam had been able to piece together about their lives alongside the fact of what

For the first time in a long time, Mira felt intrigued. Mirabel Erickson, an 18-year-old 300-level mechanical engineering student, was strikingly beautiful. Her smooth brown skin, which she fondly referred to as her "chocolate color," only added to her confident charm. Born and raised in Lagos but of Edo heritage, Mirabel carried herself with a natural grace that often turned heads.

Hunter said before walking to Miriam and the husband. "Oh, Miriam. How are you?" she came directly, intending to hug her. Miriam didn't stop her, but she felt disgusted with the hug. She quickly got out of it and smiled stiffly. "I am good. Just getting ready ," she said, taking a step back. Jayer went forward and greeted. Evelyn hunter

Who on Earth. ‘‘Boniswa!’’ quaked Miriam, ‘‘Boniswa, where are you, you silly girl, there’s a gentleman at the door! Let him in, let him in! And find Doctor Matiwane, for goodness sake, if he’s not gone out…’’ Fumbling at the knot of her apron, Miriam shuffled briskly into the kitchen, hanging the utilitarian cloth on a peg near the door. ‘‘Have you any idea who he is? Or where Liziwe is! Heavens, that child will be the death of me! And tea, Boniswa, tea!’’ The bell came again as the servant girl scurried between the door and Miriam, who stood flapping her hands and turning in circles, quite unsure of what to do first. ‘‘The door! Open the door, you turkey!’’ shrilled Miriam, rushing back to

She leaned closer, her ruined eyes locking onto ours. “She has been with Blackwater the longest,” Miriam whispered. “Embedded deep. Loved. Trusted.” The words hit harder than any weapon. My mind raced, pulling through every name, every face, every person who had stood beside me for years. Someone close. Someone central. Someone who had shaped this pack with me. “Who,” Kaye demanded. Miriam’s smile widened. “She is standing among you right now,” she said softly. “Waiting for the moment she has been building toward for years.”

Afraid that she might fall into an endless unconsciousness, she's trying hard not to think of anything at all about her and she just diverted all her attention to Euphemia. But just like how the sun sets every afternoon, she would constantly end her day with the question... ` Who am I? ` Her name is Mirage. But who Mirage really is? She's supposed to be the dead daughter of Alfonse and Miranda. She's the granddaughter of the business tycoon Augustus Esquibel. She's the cousin of Nicolo and Travis. She's the mother of Euphemia. She's the wife of....? And her head will start to throb that will cause her to panic inside. She will try everything to forget that thought over again. To save herself