The Trouble With Peace Novels & Stories

angry and scary year, how can any robot get angry, Author:: You Dumbo Harshal, he is not a robot at all, what are u doing when god is giving Brains to humans,, You first read the intro of my third chapter then u will know how Mr.Pankaj is,... Harshal:: I m not dumbo, he is not a robot then why can't he feel any pain, and y I would the intro of him .my dad said about him. so I don't need to read okay,... Author:: Fine then let me tell you, He is a very ruthless person and a most brilliant Charted Accounted also so be careful. he is silent means, Strom is on his way, hehe be careful and be safe, bye-bye

Evelyn~ The strange thing about peace was how quietly it arrived. There was no dramatic moment where someone announced everything was finally over. No fireworks. No speeches. No sudden magical feeling that the weight had disappeared. Instead, life simply kept moving. Only this time it moved without fear. I noticed it one Tuesday morning when Toby complained that we were out of cereal. Not medicine. Not court dates. Not reporters. Just cereal. I stood in the kitchen staring at him while he frowned dramatically into an empty cupboard.

Before the secrets I’d buried would come clawing their way out and when they did, I wasn’t sure if I’d have the strength to hold on to the fragile peace I’d just begun to taste. Because peace, I was learning, was never free. Not when your name was River.

Not loud or violent, not yet, but in the low tones of whispered conversations that halted when I entered a room, in glances exchanged too quickly to be casual, and in the subtle way power seemed to pulse just out of reach, like a live wire waiting for a spark. The fires of war had burned away the obvious enemies. The battlefield was silent now, but the true test had only begun. Peace, I was realizing, was more dangerous than war. At least with war, the enemies were clear. With peace came the slow erosion, doubt disguised as questions, dissent wrapped in smiles, fractures too small to call treason but sharp enough to draw blood if stepped on carelessly. Cerberus had been their Alpha. Their wa

His sharp jawline seemed even more pronounced than before—he must have lost weight in just these two days. I couldn't help but think that if time could freeze at this moment, it might count as a rare moment of peace. But peace had always been far from my reach. "It's my fault. I should have sent you home immediately. Then, none of this would've happened," he said, his voice heavy with regret. Perhaps some things in life were meant for me to endure, and no matter how I tried to escape, I couldn't avoid them. "Even if I had gone home, something else might have triggered it. It was bound to happen sooner or later."

“…the immediate peace gained after the battle has been won. The immediate peace gotten after watching your enemy fall lifeless to the floor! The immediate peace gotten after taking a life by your own hands! The immediate peace after watching your dear comrades die! The immediate peace after tasting the refreshing blood of your enemies! Peace I say…is obtained after capturing your enemies and all they could do is look at you and all you could do is look into their pitiful eyes and declare death upon them. Peace is war and war is peace!” “Alpha Logan,” I whispered as I placed my right hand on his shoulder, trying to console him. Anger and frustration was laced around his face. He panted angril

Gloss POV If there was one thing I had learned about peace, it was that it never lasted. Not with Dream. Not with me. Not with the universe apparently running on a subscription plan for chaos. The morning after our domestic towel war, I genuinely thought we might get a break. A quiet day. A normal day. A day where nobody tried to blow up the company, the system ghost didn’t whisper commentary like a bored narrator, and Dream didn’t look at me like I was both his salvation and his personal problem.

Ana’s POV Peace is a strange thing when you’ve lived too long in chaos. It doesn’t arrive loudly or announce itself, and it doesn’t force you to notice it. It simply settles—quietly, almost carefully—like it isn’t entirely sure it’s allowed to stay. For the longest time, I didn’t trust it. I didn’t trust the silence that stretched through the house without breaking into something sharp. I didn’t trust the absence of tension, the lack of conflict, the way everything existed without the constant push and pull I had grown used to—the kind that demanded reaction, demanded emotion, demanded something to happen.

Peace and mafia were too words one often wouldn’t find said in the same breath. David wished, however, that some mornings could be peaceful. The kind of peace that didn't require him to use his gun let alone leave his bed for peace to take place. One morning alone with him and his bed. No phone consistently vibrates from the million and one useless texts and calls. Again, what was the use of having so many men if they couldn’t do anything without him? Useless was what it was. The constant din of Bohemian Rhapsody from his phone as the caller refused to hang up grated on the mafioso’s nerves. Time for a new ringtone. T

“I woke up at five and reached for my phone on the nightstand, the exact same way I’ve done every single morning for weeks, bracing myself for whatever panicked alert Lena or Rowan had waiting for us. There wasn’t one. Just an ordinary, quiet morning, with nothing urgent in it.” “It’s strange how unsettling peace can feel,” Sophie murmured, tilting her head up toward the pale sunlight. “After you’ve spent enough time living entirely without it.” “I don’t think it’s peace itself that’s unsettling us,” Dominic countered gently, his grip tightening comfortably around her waist. “I think it’s simply that we’ve forgotten how to trust it. Every single time peace has shown up in the last two months