My Stranger Novels & Stories

To confront the stranger, to question him directly, and to uncover the truth that had he is keeping from us. With a deep breath, I stepped forward, my gaze locking onto the stranger’s eyes. “You’ve piqued my curiosity, stranger. It’s time for you to lay your cards on the table. What business do you truly have with Freda, and what secrets do you bring to light?” The stranger’s voice was measured, his tone carrying an air of mystery. “I have knowledge that may prove beneficial to her. Information that could alter the course of events in ways you cannot yet fathom.”

“I know something is off. That’s not Laurel upstairs. Her mannerisms are all wrong. Her habits. Her eyes. The handwriting style on Morel's school note last week did not resemble Laurel's handwriting. I squeezed the stair railing harder while my blood turned to ice. Dr. Shawty urged me to lower my voice while scanning the area quickly. You may be correct but you shouldn’t accuse people like that. It’s more complicated than you think.” My legs trembled. He was going to tell her. He was about to expose me! “Complicated?” Lillian scoffed. “My son’s been living with a stranger! My grandson addresses a woman as ‘Mommy’ whom he just met and who remains unaware of his bedtime schedule. I couldn’t li

— A Stranger By the time I was done reading, tears had built in my eyes. How could a stranger be so good with words? Why did he have to leave this letter behind and write it so perfectly, it felt like I am actually cared for. I wiped my eyes as the tears threatened to stream down my face. I couldn't feel this much emotions for a stranger whose plan was to use me as a human incubator. I shut my eyes to take a hold of myself.

Standing behind my brother, I stood on my toes and peered at the stranger, and I saw him struggling to keep his eyes open. “Brother…” I murmured, concerned about the stranger. Rowan’s sharp glare shut me up. “Who are you? What’s your name?” Rowan ordered once again. “Ad…Adrian,” The stranger rasped out a single word through the haze of pain. “My name is Adrian.” “Where are you from?” Rowan asked again. The stranger’s gaze moved to my friends, who were standing beside my brother, and looked at them with caution. His expression looked pained and a painful groan escaped his lips.

I answered. “I will ask Celia if it’s still available tomorrow then she’ll give us details” Kara said “Now tell me, how long do you think your stranger can last?”

Before I know it, a heavy hand rises up my seat, who’s that person? “Hey!” I yell to the stranger, but he does not listen, he carries me, tossing me on his broad shoulders, in everyone’s eyes. “Put me down!” I yell, my cheeks flushing hard. People stare at us, and the worst thing is I can’t see the stranger’s face. People’s eyes follow me. Nothing to see here folks, just mind your business! I hear the clinking of the door, and only then does the stranger drop me, only for me to land on the bed.

Karen - Latton's nurse Boris - Russian Cartel Igor - One of Boris' men Sarah - Maid in the Ripley Manor Thanks for supporting Hey, Stranger!

I set up my stuff, line everything perfectly parallel, take a sip of water like a normal person who definitely did not have sex against a hotel window last night. Jennifer’s phone buzzes. “He’s ready. Right this way.” I turn, smile locked and loaded, hand already out. And the world tilts sideways. Because the man walking through the door—in a charcoal suit that fits like it was invented for him, hair still a little messy, blue eyes wide with the same holy-shit expression I’m wearing—is him. My stranger. The one whose name I don’t know. The one who knows exactly what I sound like when I come.

There was so much more to take care of here than in my old pack. I threw myself into learning everything I could. I wanted to make Mom and Dad proud. One day, while making my usual rounds near the hunting grounds, a strikingly handsome face caught my eye. He lingered at the edge as if he were looking for something. "I'm Amy Geller of the Bloodmoon Pack. Do you need help?" I called out. The man smiled, warm as sunlight. "Hello, Amy. I'm Quincy Fairchild, Alpha of the Stormcrest Pack."

Almost instinctively, I pulled out my phone and checked my browsing history for the video from last night. In it, the side profiles of the two elderly people were identical to the faces of my in-laws standing before me now. If the clip hadn't flashed by so quickly, I would have recognized them right away. And in other videos—those fleeting, fragmented moments—my wife, Cynthia Muller, appeared again and again, holding a child in her arms. The little boy called her "Mom" with intimate affection. Under a sky lit by fireworks, the man held her close and kissed her.