Stillness In The Storm Novels & Stories

The car screeched to a halt at the harbor. Barrett leaped onto a private speedboat, taking the wheel as he slammed the throttle into the roaring storm. Waves violently battered the hull, threatening to capsize the small vessel, but he didn't flinch. Only one thought burned through his panic. "Octavia, hold on. I'm coming." I woke up to a bone-chilling cold. The tide kept shoving my body onto the rocky shore, only to drag me right back out into the freezing water.

The Man on the Boat Nobody spoke. Nobody moved. Nobody even breathed. The storm seemed to swallow every sound around them. Except the ocean. God. The ocean never stopped. Fair. It roared. Reasonable. It screamed. God. It crashed against the shore like it wanted to tear the island apart. Then lightning flashed again. For a brief second— the figure appeared. Standing on the deck of the boat. Still. Motionless. Watching. Then darkness swallowed him again. Ava grabbed Lily's arm.

⸻ Around hers. And this time— She didn’t move. ⸻ “It’ll pass,” she murmured. ⸻ Her voice calm. Steady. ⸻ Something he wasn’t used to receiving. ⸻ Comfort— Without judgment. ⸻ Minutes passed. ⸻ Or maybe longer. ⸻ The storm raged on. ⸻ But inside the room— Something shifted. ⸻ Aaron’s breathing slowed. ⸻ His shoulders eased. ⸻

And there. Points of unnatural stillness in the storm. She bared her will, forcing moon‑cool presence into those knots, a wave of calm cleaving the chaos just enough to make them hesitate. Stop, she sent, not in words so much as in a command that felt like stillness after a sprint. You don’t have to do this. You’re not theirs. For a heartbeat, a ring of rogues near the front faltered. Their paws skidded on blood‑slick stone.

Dylan listens to all of it without moving. The stillness is different from his usual stillness. I have learned to read the variations of it ..... the way still water and still stone are both still but entirely different things. His usual stillness is the stillness of a man who is present and controlled and choosing his responses with care. This stillness is the other kind. The kind that is not calm at all but that has been placed over something that is not calm, the way a hand is placed over a flame not to extinguish it but to contain it. His jaw is set. The line of his shoulders has a quality that was not there four minutes ago when he knocked on my door.

A raging storm swept through the city, lightning crackling against the sky, as I called him to say I felt unwell, asking if someone else could make the trip instead. His voice, sharp with annoyance, rang through the line. "You're usually so healthy—what could possibly be wrong? Or are you just jealous of Faye again? Emily, must you really be this petty?" In his eyes, I was nothing but small-minded and hypersensitive. And yet, one gentle word, a single apology, and I would forgive him and fold under his demands. "Emily, please. Just bring me the documents—I need you." Terrified that my refusal might somehow jeopardize the company, that my father's legacy might go up in smoke, I buried my own

Amelia and Gabriel faced each other across the churning water, their defiance a vivid, living presence that filled the space with life and the thrill of discovery. The storm was a relentless force, a sharp, uncontained energy that filled the space with life and the thrill of the unknown. The waves crashed against the hulls, a bright, living presence that added urgency to the confrontation. The two leaders stood tall, their presence a fierce, living energy that filled the space with life and the thrill of the unknown.

The image of the two men begging for their lives before he had silenced them were still very fresh in my memory and the very fact that he even had a gun on him all the while made me shudder. Who was Lucas Storm? Why did he keep a gun with him? Who were the men that had attempted to kill him? Why did they make such a daring attempt at a public place? Tons of questions flooded through my mind and I knew that no matter what, I wouldn’t be able to answer as much as a single one of them. I did a quick sign of the cross and thanked mother Mary for giving me the courage to run away from him. He was too dangerous for me.

She got startled and looked at Chase wondering who he was talking to, as she was about to take another sip of her drink his voice boomed again. “That’s enough Storm.” She was unsure of what she had done, asking, “Sorry?” “You have drank enough.” Storm rolled her eyes. Who did he think he was? He still wanted to control her, she stood up, “I will be back, I need to use the restroom.” She said to Jeremy, and he nodded, some of his friends had come and joined him, after using the bathroom, she went to the bar and got a bottle. Storm went outside and stumbled out into the forest, drinking was numbing her emotions and the cool air was helping her.

Thank you so much for reading The Snow Storm! If you would like to find out more about what happens to Owen and the rest of the Williamson family then check out the sequel, Murder Motel. Here is a sneak peak of the book.. Chapter One September 17, 2007 “Am I speaking to a mister Owen Matthews?” “Um, yeah, that would be me.. Can I help you?” He does not recognize the female voice on the other end of the line but he has to admit, it is a beautiful voice. He would know how to spot a lovely voice, considering her heard random voices all day long.