Novel & Cerita The Player Hides His Past

“I’m gonna find them and skin them alive! Look at this!” I treaded water, assessing. Two players. One I recognized from the dining hall—a nondescript guy who’d kept his head down. The other was new. Or rather, he’d been hidden. A master of blending in, perfectly playing the part of a clueless tourist until the explosion flushed him out. The sixth player. So here we all were.

“Evidence is the problem. We don’t have it. Because you moved the witness. Because you sealed the bunker. Because you’re acting like there’s something to hide.” The pouch under my jacket felt heavier. So did the burner message waiting in my pocket like a countdown. Silas lowered his voice just enough to sound reasonable. “If there’s nothing to hide, bring her out. Let council verify the claim. Let the pack see your control.” “No,” I said. His brows lifted. “Then you admit you can’t.” My wolf snapped up inside me, furious at the implication. I kept my face empty. “You want to see her,” I said. “You want to put your scent on her and call it concern and then use her like a pawn.”

" Don't call that love. Don't! You hid it from me. I was in the dark all this while. I'm human Drake. Why! Why did you do that?" " I'm aware Justin. You have emotions and I take the blame. I just wanted you to myself. I didn't want to involve you in my mess. I wanted to handle them alone. I didn't plan. For things to turn out this way. I just wanted to enjoy and live every moment with you. The real me". " But it's messed up now. What you say you were avoiding has happened now. What did you expect me to do" Justin teared up.

One slip would ruin me. Not when suspicions were already rising. Not when Darius Blackthorn was casting his shadow so close next to mine. "You all right?" Darius asked as he breezed in and sat beside me. "Yeah..." I hissed as he rubbed the ointment on my wound. "Good. Now about the whole couple thing..."He let the sentence hang, and I squirmed in bed. The Hide That Binds Gossip swirled around me like that second skin which, once added to a body, could never be

My stomach flips and my mind cannot wrap my head around this. Jacob. Possibly not a Beta…? That would explain so much—the tension I felt before he left. The shift in his eyes. The way he started pulling back, like something was cracking under the surface. But why would he hide that from me? Unless he had to. “Why would someone like that hide who they are?” I ask, quieter this time. Landon shrugs. “You’re asking the wrong question.” “What should I be asking?” He leans forward. “Why would someone like Richard Turner’s son have to hide in plain sight?”

“I want access… I won’t bite the hand that feeds me. But I do expect more than crumbs.” He paced like a caged beast, eyes darting, jaw clenched. What would Blythe say if she knew? What would she lose if the court found out? He’d survived assassins. Battles. Hunts in enemy forests. But nothing made him feel this cornered. Except himself. His fractured and dark reflection in the fountain shimmered beneath the night sky. He was a man without a true past, a bond forged in shadows, and a secret threatening to become a weapon.

“It gives me goosebumps. I’m not a kid anymore, so spare me the drama and tell me what you want.” George raises a brow but doesn’t flinch. “You can’t blame me, Zachary. I’ve been hiding from the world for almost two decades. I miss you. I miss our family.” Family. The word feels foreign in his mouth. “Then reveal yourself,” I demand, stepping closer. “Stop hiding and face what you’ve done. Let the world see who you really are.” His smirk vanishes, replaced by a hardened expression. “You know I can’t do that,” he says. “The law, international authorities—they’d arrest me on sight. I have a red notice, Zachary. It’s better for everyone if they think I’m dead.”

“I didn’t want to burden you with my past. I wanted you to get to know me for who I am now, not for who I was.” There it was, the answer I had been waiting for, the one that would explain everything. Or so I thought. But as he spoke, I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to this. Something didn’t add up. He was hiding something, and I wasn’t about to let him distract me with half-truths. I was going to keep pushing, keep asking, until I got the full story.

He held me like I was the last unsolved mystery on earth—and never said a word about my mother’s cruel pretense. And Gianni, that loudmouth with marinara stains on his shirt and bloodthurst in his eyes? He’d been part of that play long before I even stepped on stage. His oaf mask was just that—a mask. Fat Gianny hid a sad history underneath it, and probably a skeleton or two in the closet. I leaned forward and whispered to the screen, to the silence, to the ghosts lingering on the walls. “What were you hiding from me, Gianni? And why?”

They find me the moment I walk in. "Zoe." His voice is weak, but there is warmth in it. "You came." "Of course I came." I sit beside him, taking his hand. His fingers are cold, but his grip is firm. "I am sorry," he says. "I am sorry for everything." "Sorry for what?" "For keeping secrets. For not telling you the truth sooner. For being a coward." "You are not a coward." He shakes his head. "I have been hiding for thirty years. I have been running from the truth, from my past, from my own family. I am tired of running."