Queen Grumble Doors Novels & Stories

he grunted. Down a hallway that led away from what seemed to be a massive lounge, Hayden pointed and directed her toward a door with a sensor on it. He placed his thumbprint on it and it popped open. Georgia realized it was a facade with a different door made of thick metal behind it. This door’s dark color and strongroom-style design clashed horribly with the rest of the home’s beautiful look. The facade door didn’t and kept it hidden when closed. Hayden again scanned his print to unlock the second door and it swung open with a loud, metallic ‘clang’. Both doors closed behind them and Georgia heard loud clicks as they locked again.

“Masks too. This house looks like it breeds its own weather.” He laughed and waggled a box of N95s like a prize. “I’m ready. Last estate I did was basically a museum of expired spices. This one looks more Victorian flu.” “Flu with better molding,” I said, and Jamie groaned at the pun, which helped. I took the keys from the packet and worked them into the gate lock until the rust relented with a sound like a cough. Metal scraped, hinges protested. As the gate swung inward, a prickle went up the back of my neck.

Her auburn tresses were piled up neatly toward the back of her head, several tendrils hung loose; more in defiance than by design. She smiled as we got closer, but I could have sworn her muscles had forgotten how to pull the move off – the movement odd on her smooth face. Brown eyes, lined with thick lashes assessed us as we neared. Chocolate eyebrows arched in question as she took in how slowly I moved and how heavily I leaned on Torstein. “My Queen” she greeted me with a curtsy, thin fingers still gripping onto the door as if she doubted her own ability not to crumble in grief.

I wish I could shut down the part of my body that is craving her touch. I bang on the two-story home's door without a care in the world. Humans driving and walking by are gawking at my massive form, but I ignore them. I am ready for answers, and this Ms. Grimes better have them. The door opens to reveal a small child, and I growl in aggravation. "Where is Ms. Grimes," I say in a deep, menacing voice that makes the child's eyes widen.

Niko As I survey the room, I notice three distinct doors, each providing access in and out of this space. The first door, positioned at the back, swings open to reveal a cramped area filled with storage cupboards. Among the clutter, I spot an elderly woman nestled among the shadows, her presence almost hidden. She exudes an air of gentle vulnerability, with silver strands framing her soft, weathered face. Though her age marks her features, she radiates a sense of inherent harmlessness, as if shaped by years of quiet resilience.

I hope he's not stupid enough to go outside. I jiggled the doorknob again and backed away a little. I took a deep breath and kicked that shit. Bram's scent is coming from this room. Those weapons have to be here. I kicked again and the noise the wood made was worrying. The doorknob danced with the impact, but the door stayed annoyingly closed. I growled stressed. Maybe desperate, because I would do anything to get in. I backed up to the wall behind me and advanced against the door. My shoulder hit the wood hard. I felt it bend slightly, but it didn't open.

“His apartment is 4B, “ Grace told the driver, but didn’t specify which of the doors it actually was. Then she let go of Damian and allowed the driver to take him there himself. “No, no…this isn’t my place,” Damian grumbled as the driver stopped in front of Wren’s door The driver looked at Grace uncertainly. She gave him an encouraging nod towards the door. This was when Damian forced his head up and squinted at the plate on the door. He saw that the door was 4B and blinked. Then he giggled loosely. “Oh! Wait…that’s actually my door…mhmm…yeah yeah that’s the number.”

Chapter 13: "Oh shit." Katherine hissed as the door creaked. The door to the penthouse dining room swung wider with a deliberate slowness, its antique hinges emitting a low, torturous groan that echoed through the cavernous space like a harbinger of doom. The sound sliced through the heavy silence, amplifying the pounding of Katherine's heart, a frantic, caged bird battering against the bars of her ribcage. Each beat sent a jolt through her body, mingling with the lingering aftershocks of her recent, forbidden release.

The front door of the house shuddered on its hinges under a knock so forceful it seemed to vibrate through the walls and into the floor beneath their feet. Then a loud commanding voice followed, "OPEN THIS DOOR! THIS IS AN ORDER FROM THE ALPHA! OPEN UP, RIGHT NOW!”

​No answer came. ​She pushed harder, mental barriers scraping raw. Tell me. ​The Queen finally whispered, the defiance entirely gone from her tone: I don't know. ​The admission frightened Lyra more than any threat or warning ever could. ​Ahead of them, Cael halted. The smith had stopped too, his massive frame blocking out whatever lay at the base of the spiral. Rising from the dark floor was a colossal bronze door, entirely unlike the stark, utilitarian architecture of the Forge above. Its massive surface was pitted and scarred with hundreds of shallow, palm-sized indentations.