Remain Nameless Audiobook Novels & Stories

A hazy survival tip from one of those crime shows clicked in my head, make the attacker see that you’re a real person, not just a nameless witness to a murder, or something like that. "My name is Ugo Chike," I announced. He looked at me like I was crazy. "Right. I've forgotten you know that already. You told me yours, didn't you?" I asked, my full stomach lurching as the Audi sped into a curve. He nodded. "Maxine."

“The whole pack will be there. Everyone is… scared and worried, too.” I felt my heart grow warm at his words. “Everyone will be fine. Everything will work out well. No one will be scared anymore, okay?” He pressed his small lips into a thin line and proceeded to leave before I called him back. “What's your name?” I couldn't help but ask. “Abel.” He replied. * Unknown POV. The room was cold, dark, and dense when the door creaked open. “It's about time.” A voice whispered in the silence. “I have been bored to death!”

I need some time. Inaya: I'll think about it. Unknown: I'm happy. At least you're talking to me. Thank you. I don't know why but I'm feeling like he is a genuine person. Inaya: At least you can tell me your name to me. I have to save your number. Unknown: You can call me Mr Stranger. I knew it, he won't tell. Inaya: So, you can't even tell me your name. Why he can't even tell his name? Why? Will I ever find my answers?

The name escapes his lips, whispered almost reverently as if invoking the power of its mere utterance. In that single word, a flood of memories and emotions rush back to him. A name that represents both a connection severed and a wound that refuses to heal. It is a catalyst, igniting a fire within Kalix, propelling him down a path he never thought he would tread. "Audrey..." Kalix murmurs, his voice carrying a mix of pain, longing, and determination. In that single word, a flood of memories and emotions rush back to him. Audrey, a name that represents both a connection severed and a wound that refuses to heal.

“I must go now. But everything is alright, correct? You don’t need anything? You’ve settled in well?” “Yes, I’m fine. Thanks.” Ambrose takes a step but my words stop him in his tracks. “Could you tell me his name? The name of the man whose life I’m going to ruin?” “Not necessarily his life,” Ambrose corrects. “More like his criminal career. And his name is Dexter. Dexter Russell. Everyone knows him simply as Dex, though.” I nod. “Thank you.” I move closer to the group, my empty paper cup in my hand still. I have to find a way of discarding it. The man’s name doesn’t leave my mind, not for a second. I keep thinking about him and trying to imagine his face but fail.

Then the way I ordered him to say his name. I know... I know, dogs don't talk but this Lazza's dog talked. It was probably trained. "Rodion. My name is Rodion Konstantin." The deep voice was loud in my mind. "Forget that name! Else you'll die!" A voice rang in my brain. "Why. I love it." "Everyone who knows my name should die." My eyes bulged out, I could hear voices conversing in my mind. "Fuck Alessia! Fuck!" I grieved while gripping my hair.

A younger Seren crying in a doorway. The woman standing there. Alive. Calling her name. Seren reached forward without meaning to. I tightened my grip. “Seren. Now.” Her eyes snapped to mine. “Names,” I said. She inhaled sharply. “My name is Seren.” Mael followed. “My name is Mael.” Silas: “My name is Silas.” “My name is Kairos,” I finished. The house flickered. The illusion cracked. The woman’s face glitched. Her smile stretched too wide for half a second before snapping back.

While you're calm, while you're safe here. I took a deep breath. *Okay. But I need to know something first.* *What?* *Your name. You said I wasn't ready before, but... I want to know. Please.* There was a long pause, and I could feel him considering it, weighing whether I was truly ready. *Riven,* he said finally. *My name is Riven.* I tested it in my mind, feeling the weight of it. *Riven. Why that name?* *Because that's what we were,* he said quietly. *Riven. Split apart. Torn. But we're finding our way back together now. The name felt right.*

The man beside him—the younger one, the one with the pointed chin and eyes that won't meet mine—speaks not a word. He has not said a word. Not since I came. Not when our gazes met. Not even now. His silence is a condemnation. The old man leans forward. Fingers steeple above the smooth wood. "What is your name?" he inquires. I blink. That is what he needs to know? "My... my name is Liana," I whisper. The sound of it is out of place in this room. Like I've just said a sacred word before people who do not believe.

“A civilization optimized for perfect freedom from consequence.” The gray-eyed woman whispered: “No witness.” Julian nodded. “No archive.” “No memory.” “No evidence.” “No accountability.” The blackness grew. A voice emerged. Friendly. Male. “You make us sound awful.” Julian's face went rigid. A man stepped out of the empty center. Young. Maybe thirty. Barefoot. Simple clothes. Completely ordinary. He looked around the auditorium. “Hello.” No one answered. He smiled. “My name is David.” Elias whispered: