Natasha Preston Broken Silence Novels & Stories

And he has a broken leg to prove just how fucking irrational and ridiculous he is. I stare down at the heavy plaster cast resting on the pillows. He did this to himself. He let me break his bones all for a plot that Jade dismantled in less than five minutes. I’m truly ashamed to have been a part of this foolishness. The suffocating humiliation of it makes a bitter taste rise in my throat. “We need the money,” Natasha mutters, grasping at the frayed edges of her sanity. “Daniel, you have to have something left. The office—”

‎ ‎The screen went black, but the silence in the room felt louder than the video itself. ‎ ‎Aurora could hear her own heartbeat. ‎ ‎Adrian stood motionless in front of the laptop. His face showed no emotion, but the tightness in his jaw told another story. ‎ ‎Ethan finally broke the silence. ‎ ‎“Well… that was disturbing.” ‎ ‎No one laughed. ‎ ‎Aurora slowly turned toward Adrian. ‎ ‎“Adrian…”

Natasha was already there, her eyes bloodshot, a half-finished cup clutched in her hand. Selene slid into the booth across from her and pushed the laptop forward. “Watch.” Natasha leaned in, her brows furrowing as she absorbed the video. And then the next. And the next. By the time she was done, she looked sick. “Oh my god,” Natasha whispered. “She… she planned it all.” Selene nodded, her fingers curled around the cup of untouched coffee in front of her. “And she wanted me to break. To run.” “She’s insane. Selene, we have to go to Damien with this—”

The basement was cold, damp, and oppressive. Stephen brought me only one meal a day. At first, I was utterly terrified, so frightened that I forced my eyes open wide in the darkness, straining to see anything. When a rat scurried by, my heart pounded uncontrollably. As a mute, however, no matter how terrified I was, I couldn't make a sound. All I could do was curl up against the wall, clutching myself tightly and trembling as fear consumed me.

Cassian snapped, though his voice dropped slightly. Selene walked back to her desk and glanced down at her cell phone, which was sitting face-down right next to her laptop. Reaching out, she turned it over and tapped the screen. The screen lit up with a long list of missed calls from Cassian and his marketing staff. At the very top, the small icon of a slashed bell showed that the phone was still set to total silence. She had turned the volume off two hours ago, wanting to drown out every single thought of him with work.

Every hit, every slice, every broken neck and crushed skull brings me closer to the end, closer to the revenge I’ve been clawing for since Zane… since he— No. I won’t think about him now. Not here, not yet. I can’t afford to let the grief back in. Not until she’s dead. Natasha’s watching me from the far side of the room, her expression one of cold calculation, a flicker of amusement even as her coven crumbles around her. She doesn’t look scared, not even a little. She thinks she’s safe, protected by whatever dark power she’s bound herself to. But she’s wrong.

She was my mother in every sense of the word, and I loved her deeply. But now Monica was gone, and the farm, once a place of love and laughter, had become a prison of grief. I couldn't escape the memories of her that were at every corner of the house. To make matters worse, I had started hearing strange whispers, voices that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. They were faint, but persistent. Sometimes they sounded like my mother, sometimes like strangers. It was enough to make me question my sanity.

Something was very wrong here and she didn’t know what it was or how to help. All she could do was hold Aiden’s hand and hope it could be enough when it so clearly wasn’t. His silence had taken on this odd, almost defeated quality. She’d never known him lost for words before and it… frightened her. And that was when Natasha turned up. She wasn’t sure how she recognized her because she’d never seen her in the flesh before but somehow—even with the top half of her face covered by a golden mask—she did. Maybe it was the rich copper of her hair or the expensive whiskey sheen of her eyes.

"Let the sunshine find us" Silence envelopes the whole room, suffocating silence. I could feel waves of anger, radiating from Ophelia, it was too much to bear. The intensity was beyond a regular person's reaction. I peer at her, through my tear-soaked eyelashes. She wasn't moving from her seat, staring blankly into space. I could feel the wheels in her head rotating, the reality sinking in, the pain unfolding. "Tell me your lying." She finally whispered. I stay silent, scared of her outburst.

“The audit’s broken her. It’s done.” “Promises aren’t enough,” he snapped. “I want her gone. Don’t make me act.” The line died, and I threw the phone across the room, its shatter a pale echo of my crumbling control. Natasha’s entered, her heels clicking on the safehouse’s cracked floor. She tossed a tablet on the table, with a video playing. Clara, a Clawford loyalist, bound and gagged, her eyes pleading. Natasha’s voice hissed, “Step down, or she pays.”