The Black Echo Novels & Stories

Luke had taken Scott’s place. “Are you going to go?” Derek asked. I thought for a moment. “I think so. I need to really put the past behind me.” Derek nodded. “I’ll go with you.” Two days later, we drove to the Black Moon Pack’s territory. This place, where I’d lived for ten years, filled with so many painful memories, now seemed strangely unfamiliar. The inauguration was solemn and simple. Luke was a fair, respected wolf. He’d be a good Alpha.

"Make her swallow this. It'll sap her strength and make her cooperate." Lillian stared at the pill in horror, scrambling back. Suddenly, Elton's voice cut through. "Jill, are you there?" Lillian thrashed, muffled cries escaping the rag, hoping to draw him over. The hooligan panicked, shoving the rag deeper in a hurry. Elton caught the noise and started toward them. "Jill, is that you?" "Shit, he found us," groaned the hooligan. "Damn it," Jill cursed under her breath. "I forgot the tracker on my phone."

They were being used as living batteries, their souls being siphoned to power the Northern siphons. "They are the first of the crop," Silas whispered. "Killian has turned the entire Outskirts into a farm. Every man, woman, and child who once looked down on you is now a vessel for the Rot. They are the 'Echo' of your past, Elara. And they are dying because you exist."

I can't see Echo, they are in our back, but I am hoping that kid is still fine. After a few minutes of walking in that place, we reached a door. That big head guy opened it, then there I saw other Blacks, and they were currently preparing something. The man grips at me tightly and takes me the other way while Echo is taken to the bed that they are preparing. Some machines were beside it, and whatever they would do to him, I know it will not bring any good to that kid.

“They’re broadcasting again. Echo. You need to see this.” Damian picked up the device and turned on the holographic projector. Echo’s face appeared perfect, undamaged, smiling with Damian’s own smile. Behind him stood rows of new clones, all identical, all wearing the same cold confidence. “Citizens of New Lagos,” Echo began, voice smooth and commanding. “The so-called rebellion has lied to you. The man they call Damian Blackwood is weak. Compromised. He allowed himself to be bred like an animal. He carries the alien corruption in his blood. But I offer you purity. Strength. A future without mutation. Without weakness.”

Whatever Victor was running, he seeded them like landmines. Isla moved closer, gaze on the screen. "Locations?" "Not precisely," Ethan said. "But the metadata leads back to satellite pings. Black sites. One labeled as 'ECHO-3'—Siberian border. Ten years abandoned.". Something lurched in Isla's temple. A jagged, icy thrust. Then—flash. She was no longer in the room. She was in a cold hallway. Red lights blinking. A woman's voice shrieked somewhere. Machines whirring. A hand—a woman's—stroked her shoulder. A whisper: "Don't forget me."

echoing as Malric’s hydra surged, a new shadow rising: Echo, her eyes accusing, her voice a venomous whisper: “You let me die.” The starfield shattered, the void star’s wrath consuming all, Jessica’s glow nearly gone, her companions’ cries fading as Echo’s shadow lunged, a blade gleaming in her hand.

It should be illegal to look this nerve wrecking. The first three buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a patch of clear slightly tanned skin. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to his elbows, showing off the prominent veins that ran up his back hand. I felt the breath hitch in my wind pipes as our eyes met, his mesmerizing green stare made my cheeks flush and my knees go weak, it was like I was paralyzed as I stood there while his eyes still roamed me. "I don't think I've introduced myself. Damon Blackwood" his husky voice made my heart rate pick up. A smirk crawled unto his features as he stretched out a hand for me and I just stared in awe, his words sinking in.

Then he took my hand and led me toward the car. Shawn's voice cracked behind us. "Scarlett!" "Anything else?" I turned around. His lips parted, but no words came out. His face looked paler than winter snow. Edith tilted her head. "Mommy, is he ill? He looks pale, like when I was sick." I didn't know how to answer her. Byron took her from my arms and spoke gently. "Want some cupcakes tonight?" "Cupcakes! Hooray!" she chirped. Kids were like that, easily distracted.

Day Thirty. The drive back to the Sterling estate was a suffocating descent into inevitability. Outside the Maybach, the storm continued to batter the city, but the real tempest was inside the cabin. The privacy partition was raised. Silas sat so close to me that the damp wool of his trench coat brushed against my arm. He didn't speak. He just held my hand, his long fingers interlaced tightly with mine, his thumb stroking my racing pulse point with a rhythmic, hypnotic possessiveness.