The Retreat Sarah Pearse Novels & Stories

Twenty-eight, beautiful, successful, rich and a friendly person. The best description for Sarah Edith Cyrus, the first child of billionaire Peter Cyrus and famous jewellery designer Diane Crest-Cyrus. Sarah took off her glasses, rubbed her eyes and put them back on before moving closer to her laptop screen to read through the report she had just finished typing. Pleased with her work, she shut down her laptop and dropped it on the table by the bed alongside her glasses. She rolled off the extremely comfortable hotel bed with reluctance and walked to the wardrobe and began to bring out her clothes. Sarah was in Washington to prepare for a case she was having next month but after her mother's

He said excitedly. An hour in and I was already rewriting the plan in my head. Because I knew that there was nothing that I could do about how things were going. There were too many people and it was going to be an easy eyesight for a mistake. The retreat was supposed to be a week of forced smiles and harmless activities. Instead it felt like a chessboard with a player I hadn’t expected to sit across from me. Marc skipped ahead, oblivious to the ledger I kept. “Auntie Jas,” he said, tugging my sleeve, “can we go to the treasure hunt now?”

“If this was truly about draining Sage’s reserves, why withdraw now, just when they had apparently succeeded in exhausting her?” Sarah’s expression grew even more troubled. “That’s exactly what concerns me most. If their goal was simply exhaustion for its own sake, retreating afterward makes little strategic sense. Unless they retreated because they’ve already achieved what they actually needed.” “What do you mean?” I asked, my voice barely steady.

Sarah’s eyes gleamed and she nodded with a small smile, “I would like that very much, Miss Laurel.” “Just Laurel,” she chuckled. “Let’s get our things and head out, okay?” Sarah got to her feet and walked with Laurel to the pile of things. Tears of resignation fell as she went through her things. She thought to collect the gown Adolph had given her along with all her jewelry, but she decided against it. It was better to make a completely clean break. In the end, she gathered the letters she’d brought with her and the clothes she’d brought from the Sapphire Lake pack. She hesitated regarding the papers regarding the reestablishment of the school, orphanage, and the hospital but took them just

Pete wasn’t convinced he didn’t know him though, he looked sort of familiar but he just couldn’t put his finger on it. Pete and Sarah were back at Forensics Scotland by eight o’clock that night. Sarah had plugged her laptop into the big screen and Pete organised her slides ready for the Parley, she did a quick run through of what she was going to say and made sure all her notes were in order, she was ready. She and Pete retreated back to his office before the humans arrived, Sarah’s palms were sweating and she feeling quite nervous. The Reivers and Templars arrived and made their way to the conference room shortly followed by the humans. Sarah stayed with Pete in his office avoiding going to

The fight ahead was fierce, but now, a piece of their fractured family might soon be whole again. Months had slipped by in a quiet, precious bubble far from the turmoil of war and politics. Jasper lived with Sarah and their daughter, Alice, in a sheltered corner of the Deep-Water Pack’s territory, where the dense forest sheltered them from prying eyes. Slowly but surely, Sarah’s memories returned—like scattered fragments carefully pieced together, painting the vivid picture of their shared past and the life they had once dreamed of.

ALPHA TRISTAN Paige didn't return to the penthouse with Sara in tow. Instead, Sara slipped back into the room alone, her expression unreadable as she immediately proceeded to tidy the surfaces and adjust the linens. She moved with a quiet, practiced efficiency that usually soothed me, but today, I was restless. "You’re back," I noted, watching her. "What did you and Natalie talk about? Did she give the girl a proper perspective on things?" I asked, a surge of dark excitement humming in my veins.

*Sarah,* he said softly, grief and warning braided into one breath, *whatever you are thinking—* She smiled then. Not sweet. Not soft. Sharp. *I’m thinking,* she whispered, *that you taught me how to disappear… and how to return.* Outside, a branch cracked under the weight in the trees. Something watched from the dark. Not the witch. Something older. Waiting. The witch snorted in her sleep beside the hearth, muttering nonsense about “strings” and “stolen light.” Sarah didn’t even look at her. Her gaze lifted instead to the door—the boundary between captivity and war.

Not one had jumped on the trend and started trashing me. For three days, they had done exactly two things. Finished their work. And quietly asked Michelle if I was okay. I smiled. My first real smile in three days. "The bad apples are gone." Sharon's eyes instantly turned red. Henry rubbed his nose and looked away. "But our vacation is just getting started." I pulled another document envelope from inside my jacket. Not the one I'd put on the table earlier. A different one. "The Department of Labor required the company retreat to be canceled. I complied."

She did not relish stepping out into the fierce tropical heat again. Ruth was a city girl, born and bred. She liked order and neatness in her life. The sprawling lushness of the vegetation, just feet away from her bungalow, made her feel uneasy. Well, there was no help for it. She needed to know what was going on. Hastily plaiting her damp hair, she left it hanging over one shoulder. As she left her bungalow, she saw another of the women leaving her apartment. She recognised Sarah Reynolds. Sarah worked for a firm of London bankers. The two women fell into step.