Silent Hills Pt Novels & Stories

Pov: Third person Silas wasn't hiding. He stood right at the edge of the loading yard. He looked like a man waiting for a bus, his coat unbuttoned against the biting wind, his hands bare and steady. Around him, the "Black Tide" moved like shadows. They moved with the terrifying quiet of people who knew exactly what would happen if they failed. Sera felt him before she saw him.

For two full days, there was only silence. The phones stayed quiet, no unexpected calls arriving at odd hours. No whispers or leaks filtered their way to the press, no planted stories hinting at scandal. The halls of the building themselves seemed to carry a strange weight, an unnatural stillness that settled like a heavy cloak over every corner. It felt as though the air itself had been drained, leaving only a hollow pause before the inevitable resumption of hostilities.

"With cameras on every corner, Charles won't be able to hide for long. He's bound to be caught any minute now." Olivia had barely hung up when a loud knock rattled my door. I did not bother opening it. Instead, I peered through the digital peephole and saw the unmistakable silhouette. "Charles, I can see you out there. Don't mess up again. Turn yourself in, and maybe you can get a second chance," I called out. The knocking grew fiercer as Charles heard me. He was cursing up a storm, but I tuned him out, still pushing for him to give up.

I am not going to just sit here and wait to get rejected or killed. So, I wait. I have to be sure. Every muscle in my body is coiled tight, ready to spring, but I need the silence. The stillness. I need them to be asleep before I make my move. Finally, the house is silent. No more voices, no more laughter. I wait for a few seconds, holding my breath, and when I’m certain they’re asleep, I slip out from under the covers. My feet barely make a sound on the cold floor. My heart hammers in my chest, too loud, too fast, but I don’t let it stop me. I can’t stop. Not now.

She had turned the volume off two hours ago, wanting to drown out every single thought of him with work. “My phone was on silent,” she said plainly. Opening her laptop, she typed rapidly to check the server logs. “And for your information, we are not delaying anything. We just got our main servers fully operational a few hours ago, and because the design is large, they have been in the upload queue for the last twenty minutes.” She turned the laptop around so he could see the screen, where a small blue progress bar was hovering at ninety-nine percent. A second later, a green checkmark popped up: Upload Complete.

There was no emerald gown to act as armor tonight, and no witty, razor-sharp dialogue designed to keep a client at bay. She slid directly into Jillian’s space, her bare knees brushing against Jillian’s thighs. She reached up, her palms entirely flat and warm as they pressed against the bare skin of Jillian’s chest. Beneath her fingers, Jillian's heart beat with a slow, heavy, and completely honest rhythm. "You're overanalyzing the silence again," Clara whispered, her voice a low, melodic murmur that barely carried in the quiet room.

Morning comes too quietly. No screams. No cracks in the sky. No eldritch knocking on the edges of reality. Just snow drifting past my bedroom window like it has nothing better to do than pretend this town isn’t one bad decision away from being swallowed whole. That’s what unsettles me. Hallowpine thrives on warning signs. Silence here is never empty , it’s loaded. I wake before the others, the weight behind my ribs still there, settled like a second spine. The silver doesn’t stir unless I focus on it. It waits. Patient. Listening.

Hyacinth I was playing a dangerous game. Silas and I had been careful—too careful. But that didn’t change the fact that, behind closed doors, away from prying eyes, we were slipping. Every stolen glance, every lingering touch, every whispered word in the dead of night pulled us further into something we couldn’t name. Something we couldn’t stop. The fortress that was Alpha Gerald’s estate had too many eyes, too many ears. Yet somehow, in the chaos of running a pack, in the shadows of responsibility, we found slivers of time. Moments that shouldn’t have existed but did.