Mha Ruins Novels & Stories

I splashed some cold water on my face from the bathroom before rushing to the front gate intercom. "Let her in," I told the security guard, my voice steadier than I felt. By the time I got back to the house, Mia was wrestling a massive floral suitcase up the driveway. She was a burst of chaotic energy—curly blonde hair piled in a messy bun, oversized sunglasses perched on her head, wearing a bright yellow sundress that screamed summer.

*** After their adventurous yet fun time at Mall, they finally reached the theater. As he was parking the car, a thought suddenly hit Hazel. "Which movie are we watching?" Her genius curiosity was met with silence. "Theo." She nudged him but he showed no reaction. "What are we watching?" "If I tell you now, you will refuse to watch it with me." Plain and simple answer with no sugar coating. "What the-" She controlled her colorful language at his warning glare. "Please tell me it's not one of fifty shades series." Hazel begged, her nose scrunched at the mere thought.

“They pay a ton to have this place cleaned up for just a few hours. Word is, they’ve got a mansion in Southbridge. This is all just for show.” Hearing that, I felt a chill down my spine. Since the Halloways’ main estate was in Southbridge, I rode my bike there. The mansion was enormous, perched halfway up the hill, and guarded by security. Never in a million years would I have dreamed of being in a place like that. As I approached, a guard barked, “Hey! You! Get lost!” I froze. Then, just as I was turning to leave, a motorcycle roared past me. I recognized it instantly. It was worth over 300 thousand dollars, and on it was Xander, who saw me too.

Thunderous applause filled the hall. Grace walked to the center of the hall and looked at me, her eyes shimmering like starlight. After years of being underestimated, the Sutton family had finally risen to the center of Jorvale's elite circle in this life. I inadvertently met her radiant gaze. In my previous life, after I "accidentally" died in a car crash, my soul lingered in the air, tethered by a powerful obsession. That was when I saw the first person who rushed to the scene—Grace.

She was always calm under pressure, but whatever she’d seen had shaken her to the core. “How far?” I asked, keeping my voice low. “Just past the southern ridge,” Mara said without turning. “Near the ruins.” The ruins. They weren’t just old stones, those crumbled walls used to be the heart of our ancestors’ stronghold before the pack splintered. Now, most of us avoided them. Too much blood had been spilled there. Too many curses whispered about the Hollow. When we arrived, the moon had barely begun to rise. Pale light stretched over the fallen stones like bones in the grass. The wind stirred again, soft but sharp, like a blade dragging across the skin.

The kind of hush that wrapped around your bones and reminded you that whatever was coming next was holy. At the bottom, the torchlight fell across carvings that had been older than anything I’d ever seen, even in the ruinous shrines of Bloodpine. Sigils of the four Houses. Cut into the stone. Perfectly preserved. And ahead of us, four stone sarcophagi. One for each House. Caelum went closer first, his brow furrowing. “That’s… that’s Cillian Hawthorne.” A caught breath from Nora. “And Selene Nerezza…”

She gasped and pulled her hand back, heart racing. Damian steadied her again, his thumb brushing over her wrist. “What did you see?” “The past,” Mia whispered. “Or maybe… a warning.” They pressed on, the mist thickening with every step. Hours seemed to bend, stretching and folding. When they finally broke through the treeline, the cliffs yawned before them—vast, jagged stone plunging into a sea that roared like a beast chained too long. The ruins were carved directly into the cliffs, half-swallowed by waves that crashed and hissed below. Dark arches, broken pillars, and shattered statues stood like silent sentinels.

That was the first thing she learned about Luca Moreau, his voice didn't ask twice, and some instinct buried deeper than thought had already understood that before her mind caught up. The car had stopped in front of the mansion twenty minutes earlier, and nobody had said a word to her since. She'd been walked through a hall of black marble and gold light by a man who never introduced himself, delivered to a set of double doors like a package with a signature required, and left standing there, alone, small, still smelling faintly of her family's house, of rain and old furniture and her mother's tears, while the doors opened onto a room that looked like it belonged in a different century.

"So… there wasn't any footage?” He shook his head regretfully. "None. No recordings. No backups. No cloud uploads. It all happened during the maintenance window." The room fell silent. It couldn't be. The timing was too perfect. I exchanged glances with Armani. His expression hadn't changed but I knew him well enough now to recognize the look in his eyes. He didn't believe in coincidences. Neither did I. Mr. Harris continued, "We've contacted neighboring businesses to determine whether any external cameras may have captured suspicious activity. If we recover anything… you'll be the first to know."

"That's the Conti threat I wanted. Keep that edge, Jennifer. You're going to need it." ​The car turned into a massive, heavily guarded compound surrounded by high stone walls topped with razor wire. The Triatmodjo estate was an oppressive display of wealth—it was a complex of traditional Javanese pavilions mixed with modern, brutal concrete structures, surrounded by manicured lawns and armed guards holding machine guns. ​As the car came to a stop, Lucas leaned closer, his scent filling my space once again. He reached out, his large, warm hand settling firmly against the small of my back, right over the emerald silk.