The Waiting Game Book Novels & Stories

In the east corridor Raze's radio clicked once, his signal, nothing verbal, the click that meant I see it and I'm holding, and I felt something move in my chest that was not operational and I managed it and kept my eyes on the screen. Four minutes became seven. Seven became nine. The waiting had a specific quality. Not the waiting of uncertainty, I knew what they were doing, I knew what I was doing, I knew the compound's response to every action they could take from that position. The waiting was harder than uncertainty. Uncertainty had an excuse for stillness. Knowing exactly what to do and choosing not to do it yet required something different, something that lived in the gap between readi

"He's just setting himself up to trip over his own ego." Halfway through the party, I felt a pair of resentful eyes fixed on me. Melissa was perched on a nearby couch, and I had no idea how long she'd been staring. This was a networking event, and with Young Group teetering on the edge of collapse, she was probably here fishing for investors. I had no intention of engaging with her, but she made her way over and blocked my path with a mocking smile. "It's only been a few months. Look at you now, a powerless puppet CEO. Leonel, do you regret leaving me yet?"

My coworkers laughed and cheered. "George is so lucky!" I placed the card inside my wallet. The weather was bright and clear that day. I suddenly realized that luck was never about finally being chosen by someone else. Real luck was the day I finally stopped standing in the same place, waiting for someone to choose me.

All to fulfill his twisted sense of "duty." Now, I was done. I was done waiting for the man who only ever needed "ten minutes" but never came back. The banquet hall was buzzing. Pack elders were still raising their glasses, celebrating me. The joy in their eyes was so blinding it made me want to run. The exact moment Julian completely disappeared from view, my phone lit up. It was a text from my mentor at the Werewolf Healer Association: "Harper, the Lead Healer position at the Northern Headquarters is only open for tonight. Have you made your decision?"

Queens in a chess game where men thought themselves kings. Amira sipped the champagne a waiter placed in her hand, letting her eyes sweep the room. Every interaction was laced with double meaning. A touch on the arm, a whispered word, a glance held too long. Alliances and betrayals danced in the air, hidden beneath the guise of polite society. Montez placed a hand on her back, guiding her deeper into the crowd. His touch burned through the silk, possessive and unyielding. She stiffened, whispering sharply, “Don’t touch me.”

It was the first time I'd ever refused her. She was so understanding. Maybe she knew something, but she didn't ask any questions. She obediently let me take her hand, and we walked out of the hospital together. Everything should've been back to normal, but my heart was racing. I suppressed my swirling emotions and held Louisa's hand as we lined up at the boarding gate. Suddenly, a low, steady man's voice came from behind me. "Rowena, are you going to keep running?" I turned around stoically. Ewan stood less than three feet away, looking windswept and wet from the light rain. A few drops slid from the damp fringe on his forehead.

I don't even wait for him to say anything, but leave with his food as my mind replays his words. Waiting for me. That's what jumps in my head, whilst waiting for the microwave. Those three magical words, it should have been me saying those words not him. I'm usually the one waiting for him, waiting for him to come home, waiting for him to notice me, waiting for him to tell me that he lo - no, I won't go that far. The point is, I'm shocked yet my chest warms at his actions. Him waiting for me like how I'd done so many times, when he returned home late.

"The book knows." "Trust it." "I do." She paused. "It's strange though. Feeling the book wait." "It's not the book waiting," he said. "It's you. The book is ready. You need the experience first." She looked at him. "That's more accurate," she said. "Systems again." He almost smiled. "I understand waiting for the right conditions." "The omelette." "The burner needed to be right." "The fourteenth is my burner," she said. "And then the chapter."

He knew I was missing. And he was coming. God, I hoped he was coming. But hope without action is just waiting. And I was done waiting. The bulb flickered again. Once. Twice. I started counting again. But this time, I wasn’t counting seconds. I was counting moves. Because the game had started. And I was done playing victim.

Edrin I have told this story many times. I have told it to firelight and stone. To rivers that never answer and to skies that pretend they don’t hear my prayers. I have told it to myself until the words wore grooves into my bones. No one ever listens the way they think they do. They listen for triumph. There is none. The Game does not begin with spectacle. That is the first lie people tell themselves. It begins with a quiet thought. With an invitation folded too neatly. With a certainty that whatever you are walking toward cannot be worse than what you are leaving behind.