That Corner Novels & Stories

“And I’m not your toy. Clean your own mess.” Gasps rippled through the room. A nearby omega dropped a tray with a crash. A low growl rose from the shadows. “You insolent—!” Corbin lunged, hand raised to strike. I dodged. He stumbled forward, off-balance, and I shoved him hard. The elder toppled backward, collapsing in a heap of robes. The silence that followed was thick with dread. Heavy footsteps echoed from the entrance. Slow. Deliberate. Lethal. A chill slid down my spine.

Two weeks later, Raven sat in a corner booth at the Black Fang, a dive bar in the heart of Diamondback territory. The establishment reeked of stale beer, cigarette smoke, and the kind of desperation that clung to places where people came to forget their problems rather than solve them. Neon beer signs cast sickly light across scarred wooden tables and a clientele that looked like they'd crawl over broken glass for their next fix.

I watched the man below pull his jacket tighter. “Drink isn’t cold enough. Music is too loud. The view isn’t as good from this corner. And nobody thinks they’re the problem because they showed up, they paid, they earned this.” A pause. “But nobody earned that either.” I nodded toward the street. “Nobody chooses a corner in April.” Dominic was quiet. Looking down.

Let them underest⁠imate the subje‍c‌t. On the table lies another tray: fr⁠ui‍t, wate‌r, and a⁠ fol‍ded square of paper towel. At first it lo⁠oks o⁠rdinary, until I see a fa⁠int indent near one corner—le⁠t⁠ters‌ pressed⁠, not wr‌itten. I hold it against the light‍. ‌Under vent C4 –‌ mid⁠nig‌ht.

The red light blinked once. Just once.. soft, faint, barely there. But I saw it. I was halfway across the room, hair still damp from the shower, the morning light cutting pale slants across the carpet when something in the far corner flickered. I blinked, thinking it was my imagination. But when I moved closer.. past the sleek shelves in Ryan’s walk-in closet, past the drawers only he touched.. it blinked again. I crouched. A small black circle, embedded in the corner wall trim just behind the third shoe shelf.

Fighting. None of them knew what was happening up here. My phone buzzed. Marcus: *How's it going?* I typed back: *Fine. Almost done.* *Find anything?* *Still looking.* I pocketed my phone. Turned back to the computer. 67%. 73%. That's when I saw the bar. Tucked in the corner. Dark wood. Crystal decanters catching the light. Bottles arranged by height. I walked over. Ran my fingers along the smooth wood.

Unfortunately, it seemed as if he had put me off dates for a while. I picked up my fork, ready to dig into my second slice of cake. The diner we were in was a cute place located on the corner of a busy street. Sixties themed-white and pale pink interior. The classic checkerboard flooring. It was our first time trying it and it was already becoming a favourite. Silvana sighed, reaching over the table to rest her hand on mine. Her nails were painted a bright red, matching the colour of her hair. She had a concerned expression on her face when she spoke again, "You have no idea how sorry I am."

But I didn't care anymore. ​The lounge was dimly lit. I walked past the velvet ropes as my eyes swept the booths until they landed on the person sitting in the far corner, sipping an expensive scotch. The corner of my lips lifted. “Conrad.”

I noticed something shift in the corner of my eyes and I jerked, turning sharply. "Jesus fucking christ." A small figure stood just beyond the light, blonde hair catching the glow from the living room.

'Weird and rude' I thought, I saw him look around the area and stop his gaze at the corner part of the Cafe, I then pointed to Sheira, she grinned and grab the pen and paper, with a radiant smile plastered on her lips. She then walks near the man who sat in the corner of the Cafe, I smiled when I saw another customer entering the Cafe.