The Mask Heart Novels & Stories

Each attendee is directed to select a mask from the counters, setting the stage for an evening of mystery and style. Emma, in harmony with her dress, opts for a captivating red mask adorned with a long black feather cascading down its left side. The mask, veiling almost her entire face, adds an intriguing aura, yet her distinctive emerald eyes remain an unmistakable identifier for those attempting to distinguish her amidst the masked crowd.

They weren’t children, they were forces of nature, unpredictable, untethered, yet aligned with Lyra’s will. And yet, something else rippled beneath the surface. Something that made Kael’s blood run cold. From the distant edge of the battlefield, the masked leader stepped forward, every movement deliberate, their presence radiating control and power. The mask was silver, polished to a sheen that reflected fire and frost alike, but Kael noticed the aura behind it: familiar. Unmistakable. “You’ve brought the Heart to life,” the masked figure said, voice calm, commanding. “And now, the world will witness what you truly are.”

“Alpha Kael is going to have a heart attack.” I roll my eyes, if the Alpha had a heart attack after seeing me, the Elders would definitely have my head. “I don’t care what he thinks,” I say honestly, i preferred life better when he didn't even notice me. She only arches a brow and hands me the mask. It's delicate,white with silver embellishments, feathers arching off one side, and tiny gems scattered like stars across it. The moment I place it over my face, I feel like someone else. Someone braver.

It's better that way, I enter my room and walk up to the mirror and unfasten the string that holds my mask in place. It slips away, I'm greeted by my own reflection. There is no scar or blemish on my face, not a single imperfection to be found. My features are striking, handsome even. My hair is perfectly tied back, raven-black and impeccably styled. My nose is sharp, adding a sense of regality to my appearance, and my mouth, framed by strong, angular jawlines, looks perfect.

Then, suddenly, he sprung from the couch. A servant promptly handed him his coat, and he quickly left the mansion. Two hours later, Hayden pulled up in front of Glen Corporation's entrance. He exited the vehicle with a large bouquet of colorful flowers. "Sir, how may I assist you?" The receptionist in Glen Corporation's lobby asked him politely as she stopped him from entering the building. Hayden was a singer. When he went outside, he frequently wore a mask and a hat. Today was no exception. He wasted no time in trying to persuade the receptionist when he heard the question. He hesitated for a while before removing his hat and mask.

Edward sighed as he accepted the fact that he had to explain his identity when Andrea burst out in tears. "My head hurts so much and I feel so cold. Everyone hates me…" Andrea cried as she held her head. Edward used this time to wear his masquerade mask before walking towards her. "Stay calm and go take your bath. I called a doctor to take care of you." He said as he sat beside her. *What's the use of wearing the mask when she already saw your face?* He asked himself, but disregarded it to focus on persuading her to take her bath.

I wanted to rip the mask off, to let him see the monster and the woman, and to lose myself in the heat of his embrace. But as his fingers moved toward the silk ribbons at the back of my head, a cold splash of reality hit me. I am a murderer, I reminded myself. I am an impostor in a dead girl's palace. He is a man of the South, a man of secrets. If I let him see me—truly see me—I would lose the only armor I had left. The power of my eyes was my greatest weapon, but my mask was my greatest shield. Just as his fingers brushed the knot of the ribbon, I grabbed his wrist. My grip was unnaturally strong, fueled by the desperation of a cornered animal.

Oxygen mask. Memory came back in jagged, painful shards: the gold-leafed ceiling of the party, taste of the drink, the way the floor had tilted until the world was made of marble and shoes. And then, the crushing pressure in my heart as if an invisible hand had reached into my ribs and squeezed until the light went out. I let out a soft, broken moan, the sound muffled by the mask. “Don’t fight it, Luca.” The voice was a low vibration that seemed to pull me back from the edge of the void. It wasn’t the voice of the doctor or nurse. It was the voice of the man who had bought my life and now seemed determined to keep it.

He hadn’t fully understood what that meant until now. Everywhere he looked, the ultra-elite were shedding their daytime restraint. In a shadowed corner near the main salon bar, a statuesque redhead in a feathered gold mask had her back pressed against the wall while a man in a black-on-black suit—Ken recognized him as a prominent hedge fund manager—kissed her throat with open-mouthed hunger. His hand moved under her long dress, fingers working skillfully as she bit her lip to stifle a moan. No one around them batted an eye. This was the Hamptons after dark. At this hidden mask party, the rules dissolved with the champagne.

Chapter 28: Beneath the Mask DAMIEN’S POV Her words hit me, taking me aback. “Take off your mask.” I froze as the wind whispered through the pines, blowing on my face as my heart hammered vigorously. My hand twitched at my side, instinct screaming to clamp the mask tighter, to hide the twisted scars the curse had carved into my face seventeen years ago. The ones her grandmother’s magic had branded me with. “Anya,” I rasped, my voice rougher than gravel. “You don’t have to see this.”