The Seventh Novels & Stories

My husband, Harrison Knight, was a workaholic. When stomach pain landed me in the hospital, he had his assistant send me medication. When my mother underwent surgery, he was abroad negotiating an acquisition. In seven years of marriage, he'd missed three of my birthdays and five of our anniversaries. He always said, "The company's still getting off the ground. I can't afford to slow down." I understood. Years ago, his first love, Celeste Foster, had left him because he was poor. Afterward, he'd sworn he would make something of himself. He went on business trips, had late nights, and worked himself to the bone. For seven years, Harrison had pushed himself relentlessly, going from a pen

AVERY POV “Are you out of your mind?!" Jaden’s voice thundered against the glass walls of the greenhouse, vibrating with a raw, terrifying fury I had never heard from him before. From my place on the cold stone floor, cradled against his broad chest, a slow, sly smirk stretched across my face where Serena couldn’t see it. I pressed my cheek into the soft fabric of his suit jacket, letting out a pitiful, trembling sob for effect, but behind my squeezed-shut eyelids, I was practically bursting with triumph.

Greece was in April. The seventh year was assembling itself. The assembly was orderly and solid and entirely in the direction they were building toward. ---

And beneath all of it, I felt something else. A seventh point. Hidden. Not on Earth. Not in the supernatural realm. Somewhere deeper. Caelan's eyes closed again. The vision vanished. I stared at him. “What did you see?” Zenith asked. I looked at Asterion. Then Eamon. Then the Ancients. “The six anchors aren't the complete network.” Eamon's expression tightened. “How many are there?” “Seven.” Nobody spoke. I looked toward the ground beneath Haven. The seventh point was directly below us. But it wasn't the original seal. It was beneath the seal. Far beneath it. And whatever waited there had just awakened because Caelan had shown me the way.

After Heath Renwick abandons me and our daughter for Celeste Worthing's dog for the seventh time, we finally learn our lesson. He parades around with Celeste and the dog, trending online, landing magazine features, and I don't say a word. He even tears up our daughter Maisie's favorite sketchbook to line the dog's bed, and she doesn't cry or make a fuss. Then the dog chases Maisie down a flight of stairs. She hits her head and ends up in the ER with a concussion, and only then does Heath bother to show up. "Raven! Why didn't you tell me? I'm Maisie's father too!" I spend the whole night sitting outside the emergency room. I look at him, my voice perfectl

The careful composure that had held the assembly together began to fracture like ice under sudden weight. "Gone? What do you mean gone?" someone demanded, voice cracking with disbelief. "Does this mean that he failed?" "What?! That's absolutely impossible!" a stout man hissed, slamming his fist down onto the stone balustrade with enough force to send a sharp crack echoing through the chamber. His face had gone red, veins standing out at his temples like twisted cords. "We are talking about the Seventh Seat! He isn't some common scout we sent to forage in the woods! Among the top ten strongest in the entire order, he ranks seventh."

Harmony looked past him into the bedroom, then down the hallway toward the front door, then back at his face. She had every reason to send him away. Every reason to call him impossible. Every reason to choose the clean, bright life she had crossed the world to claim. Then she drew in a careful breath. “Seven days,” she said. Adrian did not move. He was afraid any movement would break the moment. Harmony lifted her chin, not much, but enough to look like herself again. “Seven days,” she repeated. “We see what we truly have here.” Adrian’s heart struck once, hard and deep. Then he nodded. Not trusting his voice.

Tom pointed at the barren apartment. “Eve and Jordan have seven years of history together. “We’ve all seen how Eve’s been with Jordan these past seven years.”

With one smooth motion, he slid the tablet just out of reach of Poppy’s fingers. Poppy tilted her head. “Is that a map?” “Yes,” Sebastian answered. “A treasure map?” “No.” I smiled too brightly. “It’s a boring grown-up map.” Poppy didn’t believe me. Of course she didn’t. She was born from me and Sebastian, so suspicion came from both sides like a bad inheritance no one could refuse. “If it’s boring.” Poppy tapped the flashcard again. “Seven reminds me of the light.” I almost ignored it, because Poppy could connect the number seven to a light, chicken soup, the philosophy of marriage, and glitter shoes in one paragraph if given orange juice.

Waves splashed her skirt as he turned and smiled, “Hold on tight, Mrs. Carter!” Seven years of love were just like a bubble. She pulled out her phone and sent a message: [Pick me up in seven days, as planned.] No sooner had she pressed send than a deafening bang echoed from downstairs.