The Quiet Ones Book Novels & Stories

Kieran's POV The sun was already creeping through the curtains, and Elara was curled beside me, still asleep. She looked soft. Peaceful, even. I stayed still, not wanting to ruin the moment. Everything was quiet, just the sound of her breathing and the occasional sound of birds chirping outside. It was the kind of quiet that felt rare, like the kind that only showed up when the world finally decided to slow down. My arm had gone numb under her weight, but I didn’t mind. There was something grounding about having her here. After everything, the chaos, the fights, the moments I wasn’t sure I’d earned her trust, this felt... good.

~~~~~~~~~~ ROME — ELIAS’ PRIVATE CHAMBER Elias didn’t move. He stood still in the ruin of his signal room, glass smoking, silence pressing against him like a curse. Echo stepped forward. “She chose him,” he said. Elias didn’t reply. He just picked up a blade. And began carving a new symbol into the marble wall: "The Quiet was mercy. The next will be judgment." ~~~~~~~~~~ BOOK OF BLOOD — NEW ENTRY "The world blinked, and everything false burned away. That wasn’t war. That wasn’t revolution. That was one boy whispering ‘no’ loud enough for empires to kneel."

“Anything on the wire?” McCall shook his head slow, voice rough. “Nada. Too damn quiet.” Hammer exhaled, breath fogging faint, coffee cooling fast in his hand. Quiet wasn’t peace—it was the calm before the crash. He’d felt it before—too many times—and it always ended bloody. The room hummed low—radios crackling, boots scuffing, a rifle clanking as someone loaded up. ***** ****** ****** ******* **** *** Miles off, in a forgotten corner of the city, Catalina leaned back in a leather chair, the warehouse around her a cave of shadows and noise.

The clinic always felt too quiet in the mornings, as if silence seeped down from the ceiling tiles and settled over everything. Lola Smith could hear the hum of the lights, the slow whir of the automatic doors, even the soft scrape of her own shoes across the polished floor. She didn’t mind the quiet, not really. But on certain days, when her thoughts were too loud, she wished for more noise—anything to drown out the feeling that her life was idling in neutral.

Raegan stood there for a moment after Bryer stepped inside, fingers still tracing the worn edge of the book like it might vanish if she looked away. The door clicked shut behind him, and the sound echoed through the apartment more loudly than it should have. Not because the space was big, but because it had been holding so much quiet lately. The kind of quiet that presses against your skin. The kind that reminds you you’re alone even when you’re trying not to think about it.

He wasn't just the traitor anymore; he was the first success story. "I call them the Quiet Ones,” Conrick said, gesturing to the tanks. "They don't howl. They don't rebel. And they certainly don't trade their crowns for a human accountant." "You look like a corpse, Conrick," I said, a dry, sarcastic smile touching my lips. "I hope the dental plan was worth the soul. Or does Silas just pay you in embalming fluid now?" Conrick’s face twisted, a flash of the old, insecure Beta appearing before the drug smoothed it over. "Sarcasm won't save you this time. You’re in the heart of the Hive now."

I grumbled. "How can you handle them? They're so quiet, no food, no drinks, surrounded by a bunch of old books and you can't talk properly." Quinn complained. "Quietness isn't necessarily a bad thing, Quinn." I drawled. "You don't have to fill every moment with some kind of sound." "What is wrong with you, woman?" they chimed again. I smacked them both in the arm and pouted. "There's nothing wrong with liking a bit of peace and quiet every now and then."

Now there was silence like everyone was holding their breath. The Quiet Ones did not show up in a way. They did not have bodies that we could see. They did not have voices that we could hear.. We could feel that they were there like a big wave of total silence. This was the kind of quiet that happens between heartbeats, between thoughts between moments that really matter. When the Quiet Ones spoke it was not with sound. With understanding. Their words just appeared in the minds of all the beings that were there without using language, without using thought, without anything that normally keeps one being from understanding another.

He flipped the light bar off, plunging us back into the grey dimness of the storm. "You're getting good at that," he said, his breathing finally beginning to level out. "At what?" "At the 'Dirty' work," Enzo said. I looked down at the Red Ledger. My knuckles were white where I gripped the leather. I wasn't the "Boring" girl who worked for a tech startup anymore. I was the woman who had just blinded a man so her husband could ram a truck. "It says here... 'The Quiet,'" I read, squinting at the page as a neon sign from a passing liquor store illuminated the text. "What is 'The Quiet'?"

I wanted to take it with me, to bury these ridiculous seven years for good. The office was pitch-dark, except for the light still on in the CEO's office. Wanting to say a final goodbye to Chelsea, I walked up to the door and reached for the handle. That was when I heard her voice, trembling with tears and something indistinct underneath. "Donald, don't. We can't do this…" My hand froze in midair.