Miles Morales Mask Moving Eyes Novels & Stories

Ruby's gaze was glued to the screen, her body shaking as if she had seen a ghost. "You don't have to sign," I said, my voice a chilling whisper. "But if you don't, this unedited, crystal-clear video will be tomorrow's sensation, plastered over every news site. I'll even send a copy to your parents, all your relatives, friends, and colleagues. "Think you'll see a dime of that settlement then? Think you'll have the dignity to walk this earth?"

The dim yellow lights from the streetlights cast broken lines on the ground, their reflections dancing across the car as if watching everyone come and go. Malik sat behind the wheel, wearing a mask of deceit, his eyes scanning every movement, every light, every shadow. Beside him sat Daniel, wearing a mask of happiness, silently observing Malik’s reactions. In the back seat, Dima and Rovan sat behind their prosthetic masks, waiting for instructions, their eyes taking in every small detail with alertness.

Nora in school, Nora when she was kidnapped, Nora having fun, Nora at her eighth birthday party, the one right before she was kidnapped. Mira and me at our wedding. At charity galas. At business dinners. Our house. Our cars. Our private moments captured through windows, through cameras we never knew existed. They've been watching us. For years. Maybe. The images stop and the screen goes black. Then a figure appears. The masked man from the video, sitting in what looks like an office, his face still obscured by that fucking mask. "Mr. Meliś," the distorted voice says. "Welcome."

He turned to me and this time he looked straight in my eyes and he continues, “I will try and come back here to see you. But if I can’t and you can recognize me without my mask when we meet once again, then I won’t hesitate to be yours forever. This I promise.” I became dumbfounded at the moment and couldn’t speak a word but just look into his sparkling eyes. He blinked and cleared his throat before looking away, he made his way out of the room without looking back. My heart that was accelerating at the moment stopped the instant he closed the door vanishing from my sight.

I remember Buenos Aires. The van. The feeling of being nothing but cargo. I am not that girl anymore. My hand shoots toward his face, fingers finding fabric. Mask. I yank. The cloth rips halfway down. For a split second, his features flash in the emergency glow from the exit lights. Cold eyes. Crooked nose. Definitely not the boss. One of his wolves. He swings his free hand toward my head. I duck. His fist grazes my temple instead of breaking my nose.

I say, leaning down to meet his tear-streaked gaze. The hours drag on, each moment filled with Marcello’s screams and pleas. I cut him up slowly, meticulously, carving pieces from him like an artist sculpting clay. Every time he begins to fade, when the monitors show his heart faltering, I stop. A bit of morphine, a splash of water, and he’s dragged back from the brink, his body trembling as he realizes the reprieve is temporary. He hates it—hates that I’m watching his stats, keeping him alive just so I can do it all over again. The defiance in his eyes flickers, but it never fully dies. It’s infuriating.

The hollow, pitch-black eye holes seemed like an abyss, reaching out with claws and fangs to devour her. It rendered her unable to move. When the dance ended, Marisol was drenched in cold sweat. Her back was somewhat clammy. When she realized the man with the pale mask was leading her away from the dance floor, she immediately snapped back to her senses. Her sweat-dampened hand struggled forcefully as she tried to pull back. Whether it was him or not, she absolutely couldn't go with him! The man stopped and looked back at her. Marisol's face was equally pale under her mask, but she endured it without looking away, staring straight at those pitch-black eye holes. She forcefully suppressed the

⸻ And through the smoke— Figures emerged. Dressed entirely in black combat gear. Armed. Precise. Silent. ⸻ One stepped forward slowly. Removed his mask. ⸻ My blood ran cold instantly. ⸻ Because I recognized him. ⸻ Dr. Morrison

‘Don’t bother running away, or I will hurt you. When they removed the covering for her eyes, all she could see was the man’s face covered in a black mask, showing only his eyes and his mouth. What she couldn’t forget was that he had these big, scary, dark brown eyes that glared at her. Carmen started shaking as tears fell down her face. She felt scared, but she knew she had to get away, get back to her family. These evil men beat up their driver, so they would probably beat her up, too.