Persons Unknown Novel Novels & Stories

I laugh at the clever word play. "Can we go in there?" I plead. Jack looks to where I'm pointing, "Of course." He smiles at me. I smile super hard and stare at the adventure ahead of me. We walk in and I look at a ton of cooking books, dog calendars and more. There's a book there called, Dear Nobody. It's a true story about a girl named, Mary Rose, who has to deal with her drug addiction and boys. The book interests me. I show Jack. "Out of every book in this store, you choose the one about an addict?" Jack raises his eyebrows. I shrug.

“Yes?” “This is Mara Ellison from Horizon Literary Agency. I’m reaching out because we’ve come across an anonymous manuscript that’s been circulating in underground literary circles for the past few months. It’s a powerful, raw exploration of emotional neglect in a high-society marriage, the reclamation of identity, and the painful beauty of second chances. The writing is exceptional. We believe it could be a major debut novel.” My heart stuttered. The anonymous novel I had written during the darkest months—pouring my pain, my resilience, and my quiet strength onto the pages late at night when sleep evaded me.

Nobody responded. Nobody needed to. The letter described Elias as charming. Brilliant. Ambitious. Dangerous. Not dangerous physically. Dangerous in a more complicated way. The kind of man who viewed people as opportunities before seeing them as human beings. The description felt disturbingly familiar. Arthur had probably recognized it too. Too late. *** Hours passed. The archive revealed itself piece by piece. The deeper we went, the more human the story became. No secret society. No shadow organization controlling the world.

Still planning. But for the first time, I didn't feel alone. I had Mason. I had Sloane. I had Clara. I had Ethan. And I had hope. My phone buzzed. Unknown number: I saw you today. Laughing. Smiling. Happy. It won't last. Unknown number: I'll be waiting. Midnight. Tomorrow. The warehouse on 5th. Unknown number: Come alone. Or your bookstore boy pays the price. I felt sick. Vincent was escalating.

THE UNSEEN HUSBAND Sebastian found the journal by accident. It was three days after the confrontation with Helena, and he'd been looking for a book to read to the children before bed. Alessia had mentioned keeping some books in the chest by the window, so he'd opened it without thinking. Inside, beneath a few worn volumes, was a leather-bound journal. He almost closed the chest immediately—it was clearly private, clearly Alessia's—but the page it was open to caught his eye. Not because of nosiness, but because of the handwriting. The same careful script from the letters Helena had intercepted, but this time formed into poetry.

“This is not family drama anymore. This is infiltration. Someone took over one of the strongest human mafia empires and used your life as part of the operation. That is not something we handle alone.” I nodded slowly, though my mind was still a mess. “I’ll tell him.” Inara watched me for a few seconds, then hesitated, which instantly made my stomach twist again because Inara rarely hesitated unless something was truly bad. “What else?” She looked down at the laptop. “I might know who the anonymous figure is connected to.” The air seemed to thin. “Who?” “I’m not sure.” “Inara.” “I said I’m not sure.” She rubbed her forehead, suddenly looking exhausted.

she accused. I stepped closer. My footsteps echoed. Through the warehouse. "Tell us," I demanded. Victor's gaze met mine. For an instant. A fleeting moment. I saw a glimmer. Of familiarity. A spark of connection. A whisper of recognition. And I knew. This anonymous person. Was someone I knew. A shiver ran down my spine. As the truth began to unravel. The warehouse fell silent, the only sound the creaking of old wooden beams. Tension hung like a noose, suffocating.

Lightning inevitably followed but I found myself eager for it to light my path. As soon as the storm came, it was gone. I found myself standing in a room I didn’t recognize, running my hand over the opulent furnishings. I heard footsteps behind me and turned to see a woman I didn’t know, but she looked oddly familiar. She opened her arms to me and I walked into them without hesitation. Broken sobs tore from me as she stood there patiently holding me. Who was she and why was I so distraught?

NO ONE ASKED BY QUINTUS NOONE The framework of this novel is factual. However, my cast of characters and some of their adventures are all purely imaginary. Quintus Noone September 2021 This book is inspired by true events, where names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. LIST OF CHARACTERS Quintus Noone…………………………………………. Retired MI5 agent Blanche Bradbury…………………………………… Home Office Pathologist Inspector Brooks…………………………………….. Metropolitan Police

If he wants to play a game with me, I will do it. …………………………………………………………………. When I wore my clothes, I went to the school garden while carrying my bag. Then, I sat on the bench. After that, I took a novel in my bag entitled ‘The murderer’s perfect crime,’ its writer was Mantus Taylor. Many people around the globe read his book. I opened the book, and I read chapter twenty-seven of it. “So, you are reading my book.” I heard Mantus say to me. So, I looked at him. He is holding two sandwiches right now. He is also wearing his watch in his right arm.