Serena Winters Age Novels & Stories

The woman's immaculate features stare back at them with cold calculation, a portrait of elegant menace. "She's a ghost," Serena mutters, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she scrolls through another encrypted dossier. Dark circles rim her eyes, evidence of sleepless nights and caffeine-fueled determination. "No birth records, no school history, no tax filings, no trace before 2016. It's like she materialized from thin air."

“According to him. So we’re doing a winter wedding, mid-January.” Everybody squealed, and when I ducked my head, I realized Sera had gained an amazing tan. “But enough about me.” I squeezed Sera’s hand. “You’re the one who’s been missing. Tell us everything.” Killian appeared behind her and put a hand on her shoulder. “Maybe not everything.”

Nora’s words were like a stab in the chest. ‘They are going to get married soon.’ ‘She’s a beauty.’ Tessa didn’t know what to do. She clenched her fists so hard, her nails dug into her palms. How could he do this to her? “Oh, I’ve found her! Take a look. Her name is Serena Winston. She’s twenty-four years old and her father is the owner of the Winston group.” Nora enthusiastically showed Tessa her phone while listing the said woman’s qualities. Her eyebrows creased when she saw her picture on the internet. The woman in the picture had silky dark hair with the greenest eyes she’s ever seen. Fair skin like snow-white and petal-like pink lips.

Her voice rose slightly, "Ugh everything with you is so complicated. But this? This shouldn't be. You're seeing someone, I'm your daughter and I want to meet the person who's making you smile again. What's complicated about that?" She thought I was smiling more. Christ. Was I that transparent? "There are... factors." I set my own rod down, rubbing my hands over my face. "Things that need to be handled carefully." "Like what?" Serena threw her hands up. "What factors? Is she married? In witness protection? What could possibly-" "She's young." The words came out before I could stop them. "She's twenty-three. Your age." Serena blinked, then her eyes softened. "Oh my gosh, you're worried I'll ju

Those gray eyes—mirror images of mine—cut straight through me the second I walk in. "You're keeping an Omega." My pulse doesn't even spike. "Who told you?" "Sera Winters. Twenty-three. Wolfless. Living in a Voss Group property." He leans back, fingers steepled. "Explain." I could lie badly and insult us both. I don't. "She's a diversion," I say. "Cleaner than letting some ambitious heiress sink her claws in. No political complications." His gaze doesn't waver. "A wolfless Omega."

"You know what I mean?" "O-of course, and I think that's great. I think you and Ben will be good for each other. He’s been waiting for his mate for a couple of years now, and I can tell he wants to help you and get to know—" "How many years? How old is he?" Serena asks, leaning forward with interest. "Oh, he’s… twenty-five, I’m pretty sure." Serena shrinks back, a faint blush dusting her cheeks. "What?" I tease, smiling. "Is that bad? You’re Five years apart—Vanda and I are five."

The king was not known for sparing explanations, nor for mercy without reason. Serena remained kneeling on the ground long after everyone had left. Kaelen walked to his bed and sat down, studying her in silence. Serena peeked at him through one eye, her heart racing as she wondered what was going through his mind. “How old are you?” he asked. “Twenty-six,” Serena answered. “I assume you are uncourted.” “Yes. I barely see male wolves in the forest. I hide every time… scared of being molested.” Kaelen looked at her coldly.

I said, keeping my voice steady despite the churn in my gut. Henryson stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, his usual confidence laced by the respect he has always shown me. “Date of birth, address, family history - all in there, sir. But there’s more you should know.” I scanned the first page. Serena Voss, born April 15, 2000. She’s 25 years old. Her address was a dilapidated building in the East End, the kind of place where elevators never worked, surrounded by nosy landlords and annoying tenants.

Lidya hissed softly, "Not out loud. It's dangerous for the Madam's henchmen to hear." "Okay, now it's time to talk seriously," said Serena, who had now laid herself down on the bed. "Don't you love him?" Lidya shook her head slowly and then nodded afterward, "Even if I love him, we can't be together. I can get out of here at least after menopause. Around 40 years old maybe." "I don't need a reason. The important thing is to answer. Don't you love him?" Serena urged emphasizing her sentence.

The door opened slowly and revealed a young woman standing in the doorway. A young girl with dark hair and eyes who looked like she couldn't be older than Eighteen years old. She was wearing a white dress with long sleeves and a short skirt. There were flowers embroidered on the hem of her dress and small lace straps that crossed her shoulders and connected together to create an elegant halter neckline. "Good morning, Miss Victoria." The young girl bowed politely. "Hello." Serena replied and smiled gently.