Penn Cage Books Novels & Stories

I followed the trail of light, heart pounding, until a large projector screen came to life before me. At first, I thought it was a slideshow, but then I realized what I was seeing. Scenes from my journey. My first book cover. Behind-the-scenes photos from writing sessions. Footage from my Kyoto speech. A clip from a podcast interview where I’d talked about second chances. Each transition came with the sound of a page turning. And finally, the screen faded to black. Text appeared in soft white letters: Every story needs a truth at its core. You are mine. My breath caught.

She must make up for what she has caused herself. Things weren't going according to her plan. She wanted to expose him, punish him and sent him to jail but seems like she is the one who's in jail, his house. She couldn't help but describe this luxurious penthouse as a jail. Afterall how can a house become a home when we are trapped in it without consent. She felt like a caged bird. No matter if the cage is made of gold or rubies if that makes you feel like hostage. The screeching sound of the car caught her attention and like a curious cat she peeked a little to see the familiar porshe car making its way inside. Her already accelerated heart started beating violently at the mere alert.

It is dark, and it smells as we go down the stairs. The young wolf turns on a small light. It barely illuminates the basement. He takes my handcuffs off and pushes me into a large metal cage. There is a small mat to sleep on, a sink, and a toilet. Alpha Raymond has done this before. The mat is bloody and smells, but I have no choice but to lay on it. "Get comfortable, little wolf. You will never see the light of day again," The young wolf says as he leaves me alone in the cage.

And so, I smiled—light, free, at peace. Hand in hand, we walked down the long, glowing path of my dream. I would be my own courage, my own armor. From now on, the sun shone brightly, and the road ahead was clear. … Epilogue 1: The Sterling family had fallen hard. Every crime they had committed over the years was exposed and thoroughly investigated, leaving them devastated. Their businesses were dismantled, accounts frozen, assets seized. Their stock plummeted like a free-fall, crashing straight to the bottom.

A small notebook lay near his feet. He picked it up, it was Aria’s drawing book. He looked toward the school gate but it had already closed. A helpless sigh escaped him. “How did she not notice she dropped her drawing book?” Then he paused. He hadn’t noticed his missing keys or wallet either. That realization made him chuckle softly. For the first time in years, he felt a genuine lightness in his chest. He hesitated before opening the book. Inside were drawings, messy, colorful, childish. Drawings of her mother, Bella, dogs but none of her father. He flipped page by page until he reached one that made him still.

It appeared to be as old as Brad himself. As Sidney searched the cabinet for a book to read, it occurred to her that Brad and she shared the same opinion about a popular author, Nona Penn. Her books occupied almost all the cabinet. As she searched for a book suitable enough to read, she came across a big book, like some sort of dictionary or an encyclopedia, or even a Bible. Being the curious person that she was, she picked out the book from the cabinet only to find out as she moved it towards the table lamp, that it was a family Bible.

“That sounds an awful lot like denial to me.” “You’re both irritating,” I retorted, grabbing a clean towel. “Correct,” Tess answered immediately without a second thought. The cage room looked even more alive tonight. Bodies packed shoulder-to-shoulder around the betting tables while the blue neon reflected across leather cuts and whiskey bottles. Somewhere near the cage, two bikers argued loudly over the odds while women danced near the jukebox in the far corner. The room breathed, shifted, and lived. And somehow, after only two nights, it already felt familiar; that was a dangerous realization.

Liam’s POV The warehouse was already buzzing when I arrived. Cigarette smoke hung in the air like a veil, curling upward toward the rusted beams above. The scent of oil, metal, and something acrid filled my nose as I stepped through the sliding doors. A few guys stood near the workbenches, checking weapons or counting cash. Others leaned against crates, their laughter echoing like gunfire off the walls. These weren’t friends. They were wolves who didn’t bite unless they smelled blood—or weakness.

My husband's childhood sweetheart bought a mansion with the company's money, but my husband accused me of cooking the books. Because of that, I spent three years locked away in a cell without a glimpse of daylight. … "Dad, did I do a good job? It's been so long, and that dummy never doubted me once. Once Winona gets to be the chief financial officer, I'll get to see her every day." I was standing outside the door, about to knock, when my hand froze and my heart dropped like a stone.

He wanted one last meeting, but I refused without hesitation. Some people were meant to be strangers. There was no reason to look back. I made a little detour that day. I stood outside the detention center just for a moment. Jay was being escorted into a police van. The man who once thought he owned the world looked small and scared. I thought I would feel joy and satisfaction, but I did not. All I felt was pity. I turned and walked away in silence. That chapter was finally over. With Jay out of the picture, my life took off.