Solemn Stranger Novels & Stories

Eli staggered back half a step, his face white as paper, that faint flicker of hope in his eyes splintering inch by inch, until nothing was left but a boundless, hollow desolation. "From beginning to end, I brought this on myself. I was the one who wronged you." He murmured it low, his voice so faint it nearly dissolved into the air. "In this life, there's not the slightest chance of taking it back." I lingered no longer, and without another glance at his dazed, anguished face, I turned and walked toward the stairs. The gilded box door closed softly behind me, shutting out his gaze completely. We had once walked side by side and loved each other deeply, and in the end, all that was left was

‎ ‎The furniture was near and cold, like it was placed to be look at. ‎ ‎A stranger was sitting on a chair, closer to my bed. Leaning on the chair as if he owns the hotel. He was watching me and relaxing in a way that made my heart beat faster. ‎ ‎He looked awake. ‎ ‎Too awake. ‎Like he was waiting for me to wake up. ‎ ‎" who are you" I ask my voice being low. ‎ ‎He raised his eyebrows sightly, you don't remember. ‎ ‎I swallowed and pushed myself up, they movement sent headache to my head and body pain to my body. My body felt sore in a strange way, the memories of yesterday's sex came rushing in my head.

"He wouldn't leave me." "He did," the stranger said. "The Valentis were going to kill him. He knew it, so he ran and left the debt behind." "I don't have forty thousand dollars," I said. "I can't pay you." The stranger stepped closer and towered over me. "I know," he said. "I'm Declan Sutton." My blood went cold. I took a sharp step back, my spine hitting the dumpster. I knew that name. Everyone in the city knew that name. They were the ones you didn't cross.

Time's up. No sooner had the words left my mouth than a stir echoed down the hallway. The crowd parted like the Red Sea, faces etched with a mix of terror and reverence. The deliberate click of high heels grew louder, each step resonating like a heartbeat through the throng. A team of bodyguards in black swiftly took charge, pushing back the onlookers with their phones at the ready. A statuesque silhouette framed the doorway, her black business attire cut with precision, her hair swept up in an elegant twist. Her features echoed Jennifer's, but where Jennifer held a flicker of warmth, this woman radiated a commanding chill that seemed to pierce the very air.

Not the usual gray of morning mists, but the gray Of storm clouds pregnant with lightning. He feels…familiar. I've never seen this man before. Except I have. In the window across the streets. The stranger. “Mrs Selene.” His voice is exactly as it sounds in my head during our texts. Deep, alluring and deliberate. “I believe it's time we meet properly.” He closes the door behind him softly, the click sound echoing like a coffin sealing. “Uhm…You.” I manage to mutter. “Forgive the theatrical entrance. I find first impressions important, and I wanted ours to be…memorable. I am Damien Wolfe. The unknown number, the man at the window, the man who's been watching you bleed.”

Now the world felt like it had cracked open just slightly—enough to let something unfamiliar seep in. Crystal sat on the low stone wall near the marketplace, legs swinging back and forth as she watched the village buzz with activity. Drums echoed faintly from the square. Vendors shouted prices. Children ran past her in clouds of dust and laughter. And there he was again. The daddy stranger. He stood near the elders, tall and unmistakable, his presence commanding without him trying. His clothes were too clean for the village, his posture too straight. He listened more than he spoke, but when he did speak, people leaned in.

There was no other choice but to face the consequences of my own actions. I turned to look at my incoming doom. The man realized we had stopped and slowed down his quick pace. The stranger adjusted his long overcoat and smoothed down his ruffled hair. The man joked, “For a moment I thought you wouldn’t turn back.” “Well?” I questioned, raising my eyebrows. “Forgive me,” drawled the stranger. “I’m Soren Hawthorne, you might have heard of me?” “Your name doesn’t ring any bells.” Hawthorne laughed, “Perhaps that’s for the best. In the habit of making a good first impression, might I know your name and the name of the little lady beside you?”

he groaned as my walls clenched on his digits, but he kept the fast pace. His deep raspy voice heightened the feeling and I trembled as the waves of heat and light washed over me. His voice lingered in my mind. I couldn’t think straight but I was sure this was not because of the alcohol. I was captivated by him, craving only him. The stranger watched me as he removed his fingers and I arched my back from the sensation. He looked at me like I was a puzzle he wanted to complete, yet wanted me broken at the same time.

Gravel crunches beneath the tires as we turn onto a narrower path, trees closing in on both sides. Panic claws its way up my chest. “This isn’t the way home,” I whisper. “No,” he agrees calmly. “It isn’t.” The car stops. The forest presses close, shadows tangled and thick. The stranger kills the engine, leaving only silence. He turns to me fully for the first time. His eyes, sharp and gleaming in the dark, lock onto mine. “Everything you thought you knew about your life,” he says slowly, deliberately, “is about to change. Just wait. Be patient. Patience, Lisa, patience.”

What a strange guy! ***