The Orphan Collector Novels & Stories

I look at the USB drive in my hand. At my father, alive and broken. At Richard, victorious. At the trap I walked into willingly. And I realize. There's no rescue coming. There never was.

Now that Sam knew I had recovered, I could no longer play games with them like I used to. I chose to return to my mother's care, driven by a fear of making further mistakes at Fenelle’s and a desire not to disrupt Sam’s life after everything he had done for me. For a period, my mother took wonderful care of me and even introduced me to Lydia Burke. Lydia was lovely, and we shared a strong connection, though her career meant we lived apart and only saw each other during holidays.

After hearing him out, Daniel and I decided to drive home overnight. Before we left, Great-Uncle Harold added that once the spirit-bound blood disappeared, she would suffer retaliation from the infant’s soul. As for what kind of retaliation, he didn’t say. By the time we reached home, it was already past midnight. Once inside, we turned on the lights and found the sculpture in the northwest corner of the living room. We used a power saw to cut it open. Sure enough, at the base of the sculpture was a transparent sealed vial.

I picked up the signed papers and walked toward the door without a backward glance. Behind me, I could hear Carmen's desperate sobs as she came to, mixed with Vincent's broken whimpers. It had nothing to do with me anymore. The moment I stepped out of that room, I felt free. Sunlight streamed through the estate's massive windows, warm and bright. The man who betrayed me paid his price. And I, Isabella Marconi, was free again. This is the price for betraying a Marconi.

The battle is won, but looking at the silver scars covering my side, I know the war has just begun. "Your Highness!" A guard approaches. "We found something in Margaret's car. Documents. Plans." Byrde takes the papers, his face paling as he reads. "This isn't over. Marcus and Margaret were working for someone else. Someone called 'The Collector.'" "The Collector?" I repeat. "According to this, he collects rare wolves. Wolves with special abilities." He looks at me, fear in his eyes. "And Margaret sent him information about you. About a silver wolf who survived concentrated wolfsbane."

Two of the bounty collector’s henchmen and women looked at the directions of the screams. “The bounty collector is killing anyone who hasn’t leave the city yet, what a gruesome thing to encounter after the warning, they’re unlucky anyways.” The fair skin middle-aged lady said as the cool wind blew revealing a marked ‘O’ on her right side of her waist. “Well it’s already over for them. We warned them to leave before this happened—but. Look over there at those three stony giants, probably the skill of a Divine Humane.” Said the hairy middle-aged man with a bearded Norse skipper, glowing in gold as he pulls his muffler scarf up to his mouth area.

They saved their courtesies for prey they considered worthy, and for as long as Nyxara could remember, she had been a complication, not a prize. She scanned the monitors out of habit, but the first collector was already there, standing in a blind spot that shouldn’t even exist, defying every camera and sensor, as if reality had simply decided to look away. It was tall, painfully pale, and draped in something that might have been a suit if you ignored how darkness clung to its silhouette, how its eyes seemed to bend the light into spirals that hurt to look at. Nyxara’s blood turned to ice. There were old stories about what happened when the collectors took notice, and none of them ended well.

"Nothing, I just want to inform you that I am going to town to look for some things for my new room, and thanks again. I don't what I would do without you." "And again, you don't have to thank me, I am glad you are happy and that you will be living with me in the packhouse." Caleb was living in his parent's house, but now he is 18 and they decided that they will move in with his older sister Clair, that is now expecting and will need their help. She is mated to Alpha Caspian from the Golden river pack. That is the second biggest pack in America. Our pack, the Midnight pack, is in third place. So when they moved out a week ago, Caleb agreed that he will move into the packhouse. He will have h

His darkened eyes of the deepest brown glistened in the light as he looked to the King on his throne. "My Lord the King," he said, taking a knee, then arising. "Following Colonel Ibori's disappearance and the subsequent loss of the map related to the final stage of the Eternity Project, we searched his tent for the stolen documents. While we failed to recover the project, we did find something of use to us. The Colonel had left in a hurry. He left his coat and in it a letter to an unspecified contact requesting a meeting. It seems that Colonel Ibori had been passing classified information and state secrets on to this man who we now know to be an associate of at least a subset of the remainin

he shoved me back and grabbed an envelope from the pocket of his jacket and shoved it in my chest. My stomach dropped when everything spilled on the ground. Everything I had gathered that I wanted to use. Her medical evaluation, pictures of her, and Liorah, I managed to gather all these weeks. Orana stared down at the papers, tears filling her eyes again as tears dropped on the medical evaluation I planned to use as my last resort. She slowly looked up at me as if pleading with me to tell her it’s nothing. “What is this?” Her voice sounded so broken. God.