The Still Point Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

I only had a year to find my answers, no distractions was a good way to start. "Venus, honey, are you ready?" My mom called me from the kitchen, as I opened my bedroom door. "Yes, mom be right there." I called back. Walking towards the kitchen, I was singing Famous Last Words out loud. "I am not afraid to keep on living, I am not afraid to walk this world alone, honey if you stay I'll be forgiven, Nothing you can say can stop me going home. Can you see my eyes are shining bright? Cause I'm out here on the other side of a jet black hotel mirror and I'm so weak..."

It’s all about faith. °°° The story ends here. Thanks for reading. Follow me on my I*, and get to know about my next book which is about their kids. Also, read my another book Beta Nocholas. It's a werewolf romance. Thanks again :)

I don't want to leave you hanging so I will explain how I planned on ending this book as well as those on Good Novel The Beautiful Silence, My Famous Mate, and The Werewolf Kings Mistress. His Young Luna- So with this story we were actually close to the end anyways. Sampson and Odessa were going to finally mark each other. During her Luna ceremony Edward and Angela were going to attack with their new pack. Of course a big fight was going to ensue with Sampson and Odessa winning and living happily ever after.

Jordan asked. “No, but if you clear it with the front office I can give you a list of all my students so that you can check. Is it really necessary?” Kalwell asked. “It is. Her books have caused some religious groups to be outraged with her and some of their unstable congregation have attempted to harm her. And then there are the super fans that love her so much they want to kill her. After the second attempted break-in, we hired more guards and built a wall with a gated entrance around her property. There have been less attempts since then, but it still happens.” Jordan explained.

Chapter 42: The Talk The next morning, I found myself standing in front of the packhouse. Now, mind you, I had never actually been here before—for some reason, I had avoided it. Maybe because it felt too official, too much like stepping deeper into a life I wasn’t sure I belonged to. The building was stunning. It was crafted from metal and glass, yet it somehow looked like a cabin, blending rustic charm with modern luxury. It was the perfect marriage of old and new, like everything in this pack—like Alpha Rhett himself.

The city moved at a gentler pace. People bundled in coats hurried through streets. Children built imperfect snowmen. Cars crawled cautiously through intersections. Life continued. Beautifully ordinary. Later that afternoon, Ama found herself walking home alone. Fresh snow crunched beneath her boots. The air carried that unique winter stillness. Not silence. A quieter version of the world. She passed a bookstore. Then stopped. A display window had caught her attention. New releases. Classic novels. Poetry collections. Stories. So many stories. Each one beginning with a choice.

Her words caught me off guard, and I turned to her. Her eyes were like crystal-clear pools, nothing but honesty in their depths. I could not help but smile, staying silent as a wave of warmth washed over me. Being understood, being seen, it was a kind of warmth I had not realized I had been missing. We wrapped up our tour of the exhibit and headed for the exit. However, right there at the museum's entrance, we bumped into the last person I wanted to see. Sheila. She was in a faded cotton dress, her face makeup-free, hair simply pulled back.

I held it above the final slat, watching the way the bright sunlight cast a sharp, clean shadow of the point against the fiber. ​When I finally touched the reed to the page, the movement was effortless, floating across the surface with the smooth, definitive grace of a journey that had found its home: ​They thought the manuscript was a weapon we were carrying to attack their walls. They never understood that the manuscript was the road itself. We did not write to destroy their city; we wrote so that those coming after us would know how to walk through the dark without losing their way. Chapter 142 is not a continuation of the flight—it is the setting of the stone.

* *That had always been the whole point. **THE END**

Chapter 54: The Book That Broke the Silence The release of The Woman Who Refused to Disappear didn’t just arrive—it descended, heavy and fierce, like the rain that hammered down on Lagos that Tuesday. The sky rumbled with thunder, like distant applause sent from the heavens. Clouds brooded low above the city, mirroring the gravity of the moment. But inside the sleek, understated venue Sophia had chosen,a pristine gallery bathed in soft white light—there was only warmth. A sanctuary carved out of a storm.