Nemesis Cabin Novels & Stories

The moment we stepped outside, the air felt colder. My phone buzzed as soon as I got into his car. A text from Ava. I stared at the screen for a second before unlocking it. A Mercedes-Maybach GLS 600 okayyyy Mr Billionaire. I almost laughed. Lol. Quit texting me before Evelyn calls you out. Her reply came almost instantly. I’m going home in style haha. By the way… what was that look between you and Mr Fake husband? Is he even fake anymore? I chucked on seeing this.

Damon’s POV: My nemesis. That was the label I had pinned on her the moment I realized I couldn't ignore her existence. She wasn't an enemy in the traditional sense—she didn't carry a gun or plot my downfall in the dark—but she was the one opponent I could never seem to beat. She was the glitch in my life, the persistent static in my frequency. My downfall. My undoing. It all started on December 31, 2012. That was the first time I actually stood in the same room as her. I was eleven years old and she was nine. It was a New Year’s Eve dinner.

Emily asks. “Of course, come this way,” I say, leading them to one of the new rooms that I’ve set up. “Oh, you got the new table you mentioned,” she says. “I did. How can I help you?” I ask. The man is leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest. “Luna, this is my mate, Lane. I’ve asked him, well begged him really, to come see you,” she says, looking at her mate. “What seems to be the problem, Lane.”

"Because even the most precise machines need maintenance in a controlled environment. And because constant pressure, without relief, creates cracks. And cracks, as you have so clearly demonstrated, must be managed, not ignored." It was a practical, almost clinical answer. But there was something in the idea that he, Calleb de Assis, considered "relief" necessary that intrigued her. The cabin, when it finally appeared at the end of a dirt road, was more than discreet. It was almost invisible, made of aged wood, camouflaged among tall pine trees. It was small, solid, with a stone chimney and a large window facing a deep valley. Inside, it was spartan but not uncomfortable: a large leather sofa

Bags and boxes filled the storage compartments, organized with practical precision. Lena stepped carefully inside with Adrian’s help, settling into the cushioned seat while he positioned the blanket around her and adjusted Nathaniel so the child remained warm and supported. Nathaniel stirred briefly but did not wake. Boone climbed into the driver’s seat without unnecessary movement. Outside, Eli and Marcus stood beside a rented sedan parked behind the RV. Marcus approached the open door. “We will follow for the first stretch,” he said. “After that you should be fine.” Adrian nodded.

Surely the owner advertised these as some sort of elegant retreat from the city. Maddox decreased the speed and then stopped them right in front of the cabins. When he parked, he helped her get off the bike. She swallowed her nervousness. “Thank you.” “Did I drive too fast?” “Oh, no.” Camille scanned the space. “Your heart was booming most of the ride.” “I have an anxiety disorder.” “Oh.” He widened his eyes. “How do you feel now?” “Fine. . .I think.” She took in the first cabin. Hearts had been engraved in the windows’ shutters. Several rustic chairs were positioned in the front. Burnt logs and rocks in the center, suggesting the men had put a campfire there.

"You really shouldn't wander off like that. Tonight is the most important night of Antonio's career. The last thing he needs is to be hunting through the house for his fiancée because she had a 'panic attack' in the dark." ​I looked around the sprawling room, my throat burning as I held the crystal flute steady. Sasha Bliss. This massive property we were standing in—the grand foyer, the towering ceilings, the private wings—had always been presented to me as a monument to her hard work. It was a massive place, easily passing off as a full estate. In my past life, I had been so proud of her. I remembered a summer gala years ago, right here, where I had walked into the conservatory and found he

I nodded and stepped out of the car. "Ms. Smith," my driver said, his voice full of concern. "Perhaps I should come with you. It's not safe to go alone." I shook my head. "It's my husband's company. I'll be fine. I just need to find him." With a heavy heart, I stepped into the building, which was strangely quiet for a place that should be bustling with night shifters. The eerie silence was enough to send a shiver down my spine. I slowly made my way through the dark hallways, each step echoing through the empty corridors.

She just stirred the steaming pot in front of her, the exact same way she had done six years ago, when Diana and I had stumbled into this place half-terrified. Same hut. Same wooden chairs. Same damned smell. Behind me, Darius sank into one of the chairs with an ease that irritated me further. The ancient was actually getting comfortable. Comfortable. In Makeh's presence. In Makeh's hut. As though we were guests, not captives. I clenched my jaw and refused to move. Makeh didn't turn around. "Sit down, Sage," she said. "If you want answers, sit." I scowled, but my legs betrayed me. Anger wasn't enough to keep me standing when the ground itself thrummed with the low, pulsing magic of the under

Chapter 13: Bad News As Derek’s driver pulled up in front of a massive mansion. Derek walked out of his car after gathering his important files and phone. He stood In front of the massive mansion and breathed out, as if he was trying to catch his breath. His eyes scanned the peculiar building, as it beauty shone forth. It was a three-story building, a type you would barely come across. It was built with the most expensive materials gathered from around the world; its architecture was top-notch, and the color complemented the entire building. It was painted a bright milk color.