The Hunger Novel Novels & Stories

. They appeared new. tidy. Sickened. similar to how I was not too long ago. Their wild eyes darted around as if they were animals stuck in a trap. I pondered whether my appearance had changed. They were imprisoned by the guards in the cells across from mine. They handed the newcomers chunks of bread. The aroma and sight of food tightened my stomach, and I was positive that everyone could hear me growl so loudly. My lips filled with saliva. I reached the bars by crawling and wrapped my fingers around the chilly iron. "Please," I begged. I could hardly raise my voice above a whisper. I took a deep breath and tried again. "Please. I'm going hungry." A guard pivoted, staring at me with icy, flat

Potholes, ditches, loose gravel, everything conspired to make the ride as brutal as possible. I turned my face toward the tiny slits of sunlight breaking through the blinds of the van. The light was fading. Slowly. The sky had turned that golden blue shade that signaled the end of the day. The city couldn’t be far now. At least, I hoped not. My stomach growled, low and long, the kind of hunger that made my ribs feel hollow and sore. It had started as a faintly hours ago, but now it had twisted itself into a wicked pang. I hadn't eaten since I left Henry’s. I hadn't even thought of food until now, but suddenly, it was all I could think of.

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving me alone in the dark. The scent of the meat lingered, thick and suffocating in the damp air. I clenched my fists, pressing my nails into my palms, trying to focus on anything other than the way my stomach twisted in hunger. I wouldn't eat it. I couldn't. But the hours dragged on, and the hunger gnawed at me like a beast, hollowing me out from the inside. My lips were cracked, my body trembling from exhaustion. The cold stone beneath me offered no comfort, only a reminder of my helplessness.

Rachael POV Hunger beat through my stomach so hard it felt like something alive was clawing at me from the inside. I grabbed my small bag with shaky fingers, the strap rough against my jaw. It had been too long since I’d eaten anything real, and every breath felt lighter than the one before, like my body was giving up little by little. If I didn’t find something soon, I knew I’d pass out. Maybe for hours. Maybe forever.

Not with steel But with hunger. To be continued…

But somewhere beneath that hate, an ache lingered, an ache that whispered maybe, just maybe, even monsters could pretend to care. A sudden creak at the door yanked her back. She jerked around, half-expecting Rob again. But it was only silence. She turned back to the table, forced her legs to hold her weight as she stared at the miserable food. Her stomach twisted in protest, but hunger won. She picked up the fork and shoved a bite into her mouth. It tasted like glue… bland and cold. But it was food. Survival. A noise scratched faintly at the edge of the locked door, a breeze maybe, or a ghost of freedom. She glanced at the window, at the rolling fields of nothingness beyond it. No signs of l

Always watching. I looked at the tray. Watery broth, a chunk of bread gone stale at the edges. Steam rose in thin curls, filling the air with the faint scent of onion. My stomach growled, loud enough to make my cheeks burn. But I stayed still. Hunger was familiar. Hunger was another chain. Still… Cassian’s words haunted me. Survival isn’t about pride. It’s about being alive tomorrow to make another choice. I reached for the bowl. The metal was warm against my fingers. Slowly, I ate. Every swallow scraped against my throat, every bite tasted like rust. It felt like defeat, but it was fuel. Not for Reyes. For me.

The cold bit him deeper than hunger, but hunger was more louder. It clawed inside Alexei’s stomach, twisting. He had eaten nothing since yesterday—only water stolen from a fountain. Now the bakery’s window mocked him, its rows of bread shining like treasure. His hand moved before his mind caught up. One loaf, warm, stolen in a blink. He ran. The baker’s shout tore through the street. “Thief! Help please.” People turned. Boots pounded. Rough hands grabbed his collar and yanked him back. The bread tumbled into the mud.

Drake’s POV Hunger strips a man of everything he pretends to be. I didn’t understand that until the moment Elise stand in our front with Derek beside her, both of them carrying food, and my body reacted before my mind could remind me that I was a crown prince. The smell hit first. Warm bread. Roasted meat. Salt. Smoke. My stomach clenched so hard it hurt, a sharp reminder that we’d been chasing shadows all day and surviving on nothing but stubbornness. I stood without realizing I’d moved, boots crunching against dry leaves, eyes locked on what she carried like it was treasure.

THE BONE ORCHARD ~MATHIAS'S POV~ The hunger was not a feeling; it was a tenant. It lived inside my ribcage, a separate entity that paced and scratched and whined. It lived in my throat, a dry, sandpaper thirst that no amount of water could soothe. It lived behind my eyes, applying a filter to the world where every living thing was reduced to its biology: a pulse, a vein, a liter count.