Stolen Hearts: Between Two Brothers Novels & Stories

My heart sinking down into my boots. ‘They’re mine,’ I replied and pictured their little faces with wide green eyes. I could see that my Father was doing the same and he sucked in a breath, lifting hand to his heart. As though he could contain the sudden rapid beating. Now the whole Pack knew. I’ve got sons. Two. Two beautiful, brilliant twin boys and they have been stolen from us. Not just me, but the entire pack. I could feel the energy racing through the village as everyone started to mobilise. My Father straightened up, pulling me into a hug. I can’t remember the last time he embraced me, but he squeezed me tight and muttered into my ear.

He took a slow sip from the glass and set it back on the bar. Every trace of amusement fled from his countenance, leaving dark and unreadable… and undeniably hot. His voice came out surprisingly gentle and warm. “I heard about the break up.” The word ‘breakup’ barely left his mouth before my chest tightened. Two days wasn’t enough time for the ache to dull, not when it was his younger brother who left me standing there like a fool. I hated that Adrian knew—hated that his dark eyes softened like pity belonged anywhere near me.

There’s an undeniable pull I feel, a strange sense of connection. I keep looking at him. I can’t stop. His eyes are locked on mine too. As we study each other, a devious idea starts to take shape in my mind. Mike’s father. His single father. The only person Mike seems to care about other than himself. I feel a wicked sense of satisfaction bubbling up inside me. Mike stole my heart and betrayed me with my own cousin. They say hell hath no fury like a woman scorned, and right now, I can feel that fury igniting within me.

The smile on my face grew colder. Three days after the stream ended, things began to shift. Quietly. Then, all at once. The first to fall was Tyson. Early Monday morning, a piece of news spread through every class group chat like a virus. Tyson had both his legs broken. He was in the hospital. Rumor had it that the bag of 30,000 dollars he found was not lost property at all. It belonged to a local underground banker, someone known for being ruthless. He had dropped it during a rushed deal.

Turns out most men aren’t very practical thinkers—they need disaster to strike before they realise the risk. Caspian headed for the old newspapers and tabloids, spending almost half an hour wrestling with dust-coated shelves. I focused on myself instead. My heart had been stolen first. I started with records of unnatural werewolf murders. I pulled two books from the restricted section. Both mentioned heart organs stolen from two wolves by sorcerers, later trafficked through the black market. I thought about the link between the organ thefts described in the books and the heart thefts I’d experienced—mine, and the one Alpha Fridmund’s sibling had suffered.

"Not since I realized the men I called brothers were the ones who killed your father and my brother. I've lived in this lie because it was the only way to get close enough to the heart of the rot to cut it out. And then you showed up." He leaned closer, his chest brushed against mine, and the anger that had been fueling me began to melt into something far more dangerous. The friction between our bodies was electric, a magnetic pull I was too tired to resist. My hand moved instinctively, resting against the hard muscle of his chest. I could feel his heart hammering not with the steady beat of a liar, but with the frantic rhythm of a man on the edge. "You're a Steele," I breathed, though the w

Clearly, my death hadn't changed that. The irony was that my heart was still beating in her chest. Jonathan looked up, and his eyes were bloodshot. "Selena Quigley, she donated her heart to you!" But even that didn't evoke any sense of gratitude in her. Maintaining her haughty tone, she retorted, "She was just a fishmonger's daughter. She should feel honored to have donated her heart to me! If there had been other donors, I wouldn't have taken that deaf-o's heart in the first place—"

“Wher….where’s my brother? I asked, trying not to let my voice shake, but God. Those eyes. A flush crept up my neck, not from shame or fear. It was a desire. “Let’s talk first.” His lips curved slightly, not a smile but something darker. I stepped forward, trying not to show the fear creeping into every part of my bones. “I don’t want to talk. I just want my brother.” He leaned back in his chair, his hands folded. “Your fucking brother stole from me. Two million dollars. And let’s say……something he should have never gotten his hands on. “I’ll pay it back,” I blurted. “Whatever it is, I’ll find a way.”