Silent Screams Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Go home⁠. Ge​t some rest. You​ look like death⁠ warm​ed over.” The e‌le‌vato‌r ride dow​n was silent. T‌he walk to th⁠e car was silent. Inside the⁠ car, the silence was so thick I could t‍aste it, metallic and sour,‍ l‍ike bloo⁠d. I started t‍he engine just to ha‌ve a soun‍d. “He knows,” Sil‍as‌ said. He w‌a‌s‌ st‍aring straigh‍t a​hea​d, his profile shar⁠p‍ aga‍inst the g‌ray parking garage wall.

They surrounded me from different angles, their eyes gleaming with hunger and malice. I ran with everything I had, praying I could outrun their attack. Suddenly, a sharp ache tugged at my lower belly, and fear spiked in my chest, but there was no way I could stop now. Behind me came a chorus of growls. A rush of hot, foul air hit my back, followed by sharp pain. Claws raked across my flesh, tearing a burning line down my spine. I hit the ground, rolling twice, just barely managing to shake the wolf off me. However, when I looked up, I froze. The exit was blocked. Both front and back were sealed with countless glowing green eyes staring at me in the dark like fireflies.

The prison began to die long before the guards realized they were under fire. It wasn't the gates or the alarms that gave them away, but the silence a sudden, suffocating void that felt like the world had inhaled and forgotten how to breathe. Then the scream hit. It wasn’t a sound; it was a psychic detonation, a raw and crushing pressure that bypassed the ears to slam straight into bone and nerve. It ripped through the earth, tearing reality open along fault lines that had been waiting centuries for this specific spark. Samantha was awake. Not testing the waters, not stirring she was fully, violently awake.

Only now did it hit me that there was no love between us anymore. I didn't say anything, and he also remained silent. It looked like whatever tacit understanding we had was used to ensure none of us broke the silence. Then, Andrew said hesitantly, "I was…" A phone call interrupted him, cutting through the awkward atmosphere. He was holding up some gauze, but he stopped at the ringing. The relief on his face was apparent as he answered the phone, his tone gentle. "What's wrong, Nina?" "I'm at your company, Andy, but they won't let me in. They even said I'm not worthy of being your assistant," Nina Moore said on the other end of the line.

--- The Forgotten Name That night, she dreamed again—but this dream was not her own. She stood on a field of endless night. The stars were gone. Even the moonlight could not reach this place. Something moved in the dark—massive, soundless, ancient. When it spoke, it was not a voice. It was an idea pressed directly into her thoughts. > You have opened what was meant to sleep. Kimberly turned, her body trembling. “Who are you?” > The First Silence, it said. The breath before the Heart. The darkness rippled like water disturbed by a single drop.

Chapter 91 – Breathless Silence The room was too quiet. Not the kind of peaceful quiet that soothed or healed—but the hollow, heavy kind. The kind that buzzed in your ears after a scream, the kind that clawed at your insides until you couldn’t tell if you were suffocating or simply going mad.

"It feels too quiet. I keep waiting for another message, another alarm or another problem to happen." "Quiet is something we worked hard for, " Silas said softly, kissing her neck gently, his breath warm on her skin. "Quiet means there are no people controlling us from behind." He walked over to the black desk, picked up a thick book that came earlier that day and started flipping through the pages. The cover was blank. The first page had a special name on it. "Speaking of our accomplishments " Silas said, smiling slowly as he looked at the pages. "The numbers are in your book.

Only the calm of a storm that knows its strength. Then, softer, but no less deadly: “Whisper again, and I’ll turn your murmurs into your graves.” The silence that followed wasn’t brittle anymore. It was bent, forced under her weight. Even Silas didn’t speak. The chamber did not snap back to quiet so much as it folded — like a giant leaf closing on itself, the sound of wings and breath muted under the weight of something enormous and final. At first came the smallest noises: a throat cleared, a chair scraping as someone adjusted position to listen harder. Then, like a tide catching on a cliff, reactions spilled out.

The house was too quiet. Too still. Sierra lay sprawled on her bed, one arm draped over her eyes, listening to the faint hum of the ceiling fan overhead. The quiet pressed down on her chest, magnifying the sound of her own breathing, magnifying the thoughts she couldn’t silence. Damien’s touch still burned on her skin like an echo. His words dark, commanding, impossible to ignore looped in her head until she wanted to scream just to drown them out.

And for just a moment—the flood stopped. The pages of the giant book curled backward like flapping wings. The bloody image of Camela on the first page screamed as its face split open into a thousand cracks. The whispers grew louder than ever before—desperate and furious this time: “You chose silence. Then silence shall be your fate.” Every book in the library slammed shut simultaneously with a sound that thundered like bones breaking apart. And then—darkness. A total, smothering, and overwhelming silence enveloped them both.