The Pact Book Novels & Stories

And on its glowing pages, new words appeared by themselves: “The Mother’s Pact is not finished. The daughter must choose, blood or fire.” Olivia’s scream caught in her throat as the shadows of six women rose slowly from the walls around her…

He explained and they listened attentively. “What forbidden promise do you guys have?” Adrian asked. Amana was not able to use her promise and was not able to determine what kind of promise they have. “I have the strengthening promise and my husband has the killing promise where he can kill someone else’s promise and I can make someone else’s promise stronger.” Caselyn stated. They asked them questions and found out things that the academy is hiding. They also found out that outsiders used to be promise users but they can't remember anything about promises because of the poison that was planted inside of them by the higher ups.

"Our worlds are fading. The 'Ideal' has flattened our complexity, and the 'Void' is consuming our children. We demand the Symmetry of the Pact. We demand the right to 'Clone' the frequency of the White Wolf and her Rebel." "The Pact is not a recipe!" I shouted, stepping onto the dais, the gold-violet fire in my eyes flaring. "It is a Sacrifice. To have the 'Wild' and the 'Kinetic' in balance, you have to be willing to bleed for both. You have to be willing to choose the 'Mess' over the 'Ideal'." "We have bled!" the Spore-Queen shrieked, her voice a rustle of dry leaves. "We have lost millions to the Overwrite! Why should the North thrive while the galaxy remains a cemetery of 'Abstract Conce

The thoug‌h‌t s⁠ent eq​ual parts​ of terror and forbidden excitement rac​ing thr‌ough his veins. “⁠What kind‌ of contract?” he asked. Adrian r​eached behind him and s​lid‌ a thick fold‍er across the desk. “Read it thoroughly.” Eth‍an op‍ened it.‌ The fi‌rst page w​as clinic‍al, brutal, no e‌moti‍o⁠nal at​tachment,‍ no‌ personal question‌s,‌ no phys​ic‌al⁠ contac​t unles​s explicitly permi​tted,​ and co⁠mplete obedience. Viol⁠atio‍n‌ of‍ any rules res⁠ults i​n imme​di‍ate termination and repayment of all compensati‌o​n r‌eceived.

"I know, I'm trying to connect all Alphas first. I'm trying to send Damion the pact, but he seem to be declining. " Henry said and I rolled my eyes. "Everything has felt off with Damion these days." I growled. And soon, I felt a tingling in my palm and when I looked, I could see a bar to click to accept the pact. The pact looked like the wolves Technology and I could tell there were more I didn't even know about. After I joined, the other three wolves of different packs joined. Remaining Alpha Damion and Alpha Ken, the Alpha of seadeep pack.

The document slipped from his hands and hit the floor with a soft sound. He felt the entire world spinning. Everything felt unreal. He frantically searched through the drawers, desperate to find something that would prove this was all a misunderstanding. Documents were scattered across the floor, but he didn't bother organizing them. Finally, in the bottom drawer, he found the arranged marriage contract from five years ago. Clear terms were written on the yellowed paper. "Contract Duration: Five Years." "The contract expires automatically after five years." Tommaso's trembling fingers traced those words. Each one cut into his heart like a blade.

Cassian spoke. “You’re interested in joining the Pact.” Tan smiled. “Yes.” But his next sentence changed the tone of the room. “However, I do not intend to join as a passive partner.” Cassian’s eyes narrowed slightly. “What are you proposing?” Tan folded his hands calmly. “A strategic alliance.” Avelyn asked the obvious question. “Define strategic.” Tan leaned forward slightly. “Expansion.” He tapped a document on his desk. “The Prague Pact controls critical infrastructure coordination in Europe.” “That is correct.”

Every step I took echoed like I was walking on the bones of the forgotten. I searched for one particular tome—not the ones the blood priests taught, but a volume sealed by my father’s own hand. The only one he forbade me from ever touching. But I didn’t care tonight. My fingers trembled as I touched the cracked leather cover—its surface marked with scarlet letters that almost seemed to breathe: “The Pact of the Switched Blood.” --- One page. That was all it took to unravel everything. > “Year 1837. A bride refused the sacrifice. She offered her younger sister instead.”

I say, strolling back toward her. “Besides Rat Trap on your fake tits, the second game is called Truth: A Little Flesh or Lies: A Lot of Flesh.” I smirk. “Rules are simple. I’m going to adjust our little rat friend, so he’s positioned right above your overpriced silicone tits. Then, I ask a question. As I heat the bucket. You answer and if I believe you, I release a little heat. Vincent over there, he takes part of a finger. But if we think you’re lying?” I glance over at Vinny. “I heat the bucket, and he takes the whole fucking finger.”

Instead of the hollow sound of wood, I hear a soft click. A compartment opens. Inside lies a black notebook. Untitled, unmarked, just the initials V.M. etched in fading ink. Vittorio Moretti. I open it slowly. No dates. No numbers. Just a list of names, some crossed out, some circled. And beside one name, scrawled in darker ink, two words that make my stomach tighten: Blood Pact. I stare at it, my pulse steady but my hands clenched. Blood Pact. The term my father used for alliances sealed by death, promises that only ended when one party was buried.