One Dark Window Book 2 Novels & Stories

But I felt the shift, the dark web loosening inside him, the poison’s grip breaking. My arms shook violently, but I didn’t stop. Morgan’s face kept me steady. His voice. His touch. The memory of him holding me when I thought I’d break. “Open the windows”, I said in a hoarse voice that didn't sound like my own. Dark fumes radiated from him, pushing out into the air. “The window” I heard myself say, in the same hush tone. I led the fumes using my eyes to the window, and went out.

We didn't let the darkness win. END OF VOLUME ONE

I am trapped. The door opens. A figure steps into the room. Tall. Wearing dark clothes. A hood covers their face. I cannot see anything except the outline of their body and the glint of something in their hand. A knife. "Please," I whisper. "Please do not—" The figure moves toward me. I scream. --- The window explodes. Glass shatters everywhere. Moonlight floods the room. And through the broken window, a second figure crashes inside. Larger than the first. Faster. Dark hair. Gray eyes burning with fury.

But Lara did… and it hurt her more than what he did to her three years back. Since she was left alone by Christophe and Francine, she went off to explore after dinner, wandering through beautifully furnished and decorated reception rooms that were lifeless. Lara was delighted to come upon a library and, locating the English section, selected ‘Jane Eyre’, her favorite. She hadn’t read it for several years. But Charlotte Brontë failed her for the very first time. Lara found it impossible to concentrate. Standing up again, she cast the book aside and stepped through the curtains to open the French windows that featured in virtually every room. She walked along the terrace. As Lara passed by ope

The library doors locked with a soft click that sounded louder than any shout. I had only stepped inside to find a book that might help me sleep. The mansion felt too quiet tonight, and I needed something to distract my racing mind. But the moment the doors closed behind me, I knew I had made a mistake. Victor stood near the tall windows with his back to me, a glass of whiskey in his hand. The storm outside cast flickering shadows across the room, making his silhouette look even more imposing.

Maddox just took the time to rush to the trunk and get his hunting rifle when he followed Gian across the driveway of a local family house. The front door was wide open, the wood on the door frame was splintered. Broken up. The moment he stormed into the house behind Gian, he heard a shot from the garden, followed immediately by a second. Maddox accelerated again and only marginally noticed the many family pictures on the walls in the hallway. He ran into the kitchen and immediately wanted to storm through the open back door, but had to brake, because right in front of the door was a blood-covered woman with blond hair, right next to a dead Proles - more precisely an Iuba.

Yes, that was also Nadir's job - collecting male sperm for incubus. Now, filled with life-giving energy, she walked down the street, invisible to people. Nadir was able to dissolve into thin air when she didn't want all the men's eyes on her. Suddenly, a car flashed past Nadir, which was full of suffering, sadness and complete despair. It worked on her as a bait. No demon could resist the feeling of such misfortune. Nadir ran in a demonic speed, thanks to which she quickly caught up with the car. It stopped in front of a small tenement house, the owner of the car got out and slowly "crawled" to the front door. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man with a little bit of facial hair, black hair,

And a roof that defied the grey sky. House oak rest. They found it. Or maybe she had found it. Nobody moved. Because at the same time they noticed something. All the windows of the house were dark. Except for one. Up top. On the third floor. There was light. Warm. Golden. And there was a shape in the window. Too far away to see her face. But she slowly lifted her hand. Like she's been expecting her. Then she disappeared. And deep out of the interior of house oak rest sounded the sound of oneself opening door.

Dawn broke gray and bitter over the coastal cliffs, the winter light doing nothing to warm the etched words still scarring our bedroom window. I woke to find Devon's side of the bed empty, the sheets cold, and a note on the nightstand in his sharp, aggressive handwriting: Command center. Don't look at the window. —D I looked at the window anyway. The message was still there, gouged into the glass like a wound that refused to close. In the pale morning light, it looked less like a threat and more like a scar—a permanent mark on our sanctuary that no amount of security upgrades could erase.

Outplanned me. Outlasted me. She had stripped away my wealth. Taken away my future. Locked me outside the gates. And left me to freeze. The wind howled again. Louder this time. Violently shaking the heavy oak door. Somewhere downstairs, ice continued spreading through the mansion like a living creature reclaiming territory. I slowly approached the narrow window. Beyond the frost-covered glass was nothing but darkness. Snow. Wind. Death. A white abyss swallowing the world whole. And somewhere hidden beyond that storm...