The Underground Railroad: A Novel Novels & Stories

Caught between the unhinged Jasmine and the intimidating White family, everyone's eyes were on Derick, waiting for him to tell the truth. Derick was ghost-white, sweat trickling down his forehead. He looked around in a frenzy until his eyes met mine. I was cradling the baby. He pointed straight at me and yelled, "I'm clueless here. It's all Lily's fault! "Lily didn't want her son Ayden, born with a heart defect, to inherit the mafia's throne. I was backed into a corner and agreed to help her swap the babies!

Outside, the snowfall thickened. Somewhere in the distance, sirens began to echo through the city. A phone buzzed on the desk. The new burner we hadn’t used yet. Unknown number. But we both knew who it was. Mom. We didn’t answer. Not yet. Because whatever came next arrests, investigations, headlines, trials none of it could be stopped now. The truth had already escaped into the world. Julian kissed my forehead ge Chapter 35 – The Chicago Vault The Greyhound from Portland to Chicago took twenty-nine hours and change.

Nobody came here because they all knew better than to enter my territory. It was three stories of black stone with narrow windows and heavy doors that I had reinforced with iron bars, not to keep others out, but to keep myself in when the beast took over. The inside was just as cold and empty as my life had been for years with bare stone walls and minimal furniture. What was the point of comfort when you lived only to execute the King's enemies? I set her down inside the main room and immediately stepped back to put distance between us, even though every part of me screamed to pull her close again.

There were no traces of Arya here and no lingering presence of anyone from the Marlowe family. It was clean, new, stamped with my personal choices, and full of limitless future possibilities. Arya's car accident had been just that—an accident. It was a tragedy that shattered my life into pieces. Yet on top of those ruins, after experiencing betrayal, manipulation, abuse, and endless struggles, I had cleared away the rubble with my own hands and rebuilt my home. I had lost my marriage and seen people's true colors, but I had also reclaimed myself. My phone vibrated. A text from the bank reminded me that one of my low-risk investments started accruing interest today.

The Underworld. "Water," Julian croaked. "Soon," I promised. I had no water. I had no food. I had a wet book and a dying husband. I saw a flickering light ahead. I froze. I laid Julian down gently against the damp wall and crept forward. It wasn't a flashlight. It was a fire. A barrel fire. We had found a camp. The tunnel opened up into a large chamber. It looked like an abandoned subway station from the 1920s. Tiles were falling off the walls. There were makeshift tents set up, piles of scavenged junk, and a group of three men sitting around a burning oil drum.

I could not help but laugh, though it was more bitter than sweet. He thought I had it all, but I was suffocating, living a life of quiet desperation. Like a goldfish in a bowl—pretty to look at but nowhere to go. I was stuck with people I loathed, doing things I detested. After a decade, I had paid my dues. "Ms. Elaine, I've missed you so much!" Yoana's bright, youthful voice cut through the tension. She dashed over and wrapped her arms around Elaine, her eyes brimming with worry.

“You know what I’m reading, of course you do.” “I haven’t researched it as I stalked you on camera if that’s what you’re referring to.” Max smiled. “It’s a novel about a woman who rescued thousands of children by smuggling them out of the Warsaw Ghetto in World War II.” “Sounds heroic,” Max said. “I’ve just started, seems good so far.” Abby paused. Max seemed different, more reserved if it was possible. Reserved and distracted. “What’s wrong? Have you heard something?” His eyes shot to hers. “What makes you say that?”

Her father is hardly ever home, working long hours in the city while her mother spends most of her time grading papers from all of her high school students. She opens the door quietly, but there is no need. Her mother is still awake. She's curled up in the living room reading her latest adventure novel wrapped on the comfy (and dare she call ugly) recliner her father just had to have. Her curly auburn hair is up in a bun with a few stray strands spiraling free as her eyes intently scan the new Kindle she received for her birthday only a few weeks ago. It's safe to say she has become a little obsessed with it. Can't say Sera can blame her. She herself escapes to a different world every time s

What kind of person would want to serve a King as vile as that? I ponder many things as we check our bags out of the hotel. We are a small way drive from my mansion in Ithaca, New York. It takes me two minutes to decide to head in that direction. I tell Marcus that I want to stop at my old Mansion before heading back to Chicago. He says he will wait in the car if he is not needed. The home has been closed up for quite some time. The original caretakers have passed on, and I have not had the opportunity to hire someone new. This place was to be our home after we left England for America. This is the mansion of Eliza's dreams. I wish I could have lived here with her. Everything happens for a r

Damn it, this wasn't an action movie. I growled at something very rude, fasted my M19 harder, and sprinted down the sidewalk on this side of the street. I never let our prey out of my sight for a moment. It was almost like a slalom. Again and again I had to avoid people and then I almost ran into a shelter. There was room for a handful of people in these small buildings. If you had to get to safety from a prole, you could run in there, seal the room and call the venators from inside via an emergency column.