The Westing Game Novels & Stories

Orion clarified, doing the most to keep the conversation vague enough for my father not to catch on to us, "by the way, Alpha Killian, since we're all here. Who won the game last night?" A dry chuckle rocked my father's muscular build, "You should be proud of yourself, Alpha Orion. You may have insulted me last night, but you were correct. Power was the correct answer. Multiple answers to the riddle would have been an interesting way to do things, but I was looking for just one answer and you somehow managed to figure it out. That means you and Miles are tied once more. I do hope to hold the last game tomorrow." "We look forward to the game," Miles offered my father a curt nod, "now if you'l

Why is everyone calling me? A cold, uneasy feeling spread through my chest. I scrolled through the list again, fear creeping deeper into my bones. I was still wondering when a news notification popped up on my screen. It mentioned Stanmore Global, and my breath paused a little. I clicked it quickly, and the moment the page opened, my whole body froze. It was the video of Anastasia lying on the floor in a pool of blood. Then it showed me standing there, looking worried beside her. And above it was the shocking heading:

"Who is she?" He glanced at it. A flicker of panic crossed his eyes before he said, coolly, "A friend." I kept my voice from shaking. "Do friends need to kiss?" "She's a Fremorian. That's how they greet," he said, deadpan. I laughed bitterly and pressed the point. "You have prosopagnosia. Tens of thousands filled that concert, and she was in plain black. So how could you spot her right away?" There was a beat of silence before Andrew said, "We grew up together."

The executive chair. West took a seat there as she relaxed her muscles. Lincoln moved his laptop and a few files to the table close to the wall and sat on the couch to work. As he entered the file's info into the laptop, West was playing a video game on his computer. "Double kill" The game echoed in the office and Lincoln turned to look at her but she was too immersed in the game to notice. The two couples were busy with their various activities as West played the game to kill time as she waited for her husband.

“Is it fun to play me?” Stella was exhausted and sounded tired. “You were the one who promised to let me go...” “I did, and I didn’t force you to come back,” Weston replied calmly. Stella closed her eyes. She refused to play this word game with him. “Must you push me to the verge and force me to a dead end?” “Dead end?” Weston answered with a low chuckle devoid of any warmth. “Why would I? I don't have the heart to do that.”

"Are you going easy on me?" Westley was neither humble nor arrogant. "I'm not as good as him." Calvin had lived this long and still loved playing chess. There was no way he couldn't tell. When Zachary came back from the phone call, he teased, "Do you think you can really fool Grandpa?" Westley ignored him and continued playing chess with Calvin. Calvin said, "I won’t play if you don’t take this game seriously." Westley agreed. Zachary stood by, watching. Westley's moves became clearer, and by the end, he won just by an inch.

A cruel sort of poetry, considering what she’s walking into. I turn away before she can sense me watching. The castle’s corridors stretch ahead, whispering secrets in languages that are older than Nyxara herself. I have a script to follow, meet the players, play the fool, let a warrior guide them to their doom. Pretend I’m one of them until they start dying. But my wolf, Alister, keeps glancing back through the glamour. He is restless. The Game begins at sundown, which means I have a few hours left to remind myself what happens when I start to care. I’ve broken that rule before, and the price still stains these walls.

Alexis "Checkmate," I giggled, clapping with excitement after I countered Westin's move. His sour face made me double over in laughter. It was Saturday evening, and we were happy for the weekend. Westin and I sat on a leather couch in the common room, playing chess. Around us were boys and girls with their arms draped around their shoulders, some talking, some stealing kisses. "You're so competitive," he said softly, leaning closer. I became instantly uncomfortable when he fixed his gaze on me. His light brown fringe was against his forehead, partially obscuring his deep blue eyes that went wide with wonder.

"I try not to stare at your high-rollers." "That was Elias Weston," she says, her voice hushed with a mix of awe and gossip. "He plays for the Toronto Raiders. He's here for the game tonight." "Okay?" "He came in alone. He bought the Lange 1." She pauses for effect. "Women's." The colleague sets down the cloth, finally looking up. "So he's buying it for—" "His girlfriend. Obviously." The associate sighs, a hint of personal disappointment in her eyes. "He remembered to buy her something while he was away for an away game," her colleague says. "That's actually quite thoughtful."

Westin screamed in pain as he wriggled all over the ground. “You must have a death wish or something!” “If you can’t get any money by next month, just wait till your company goes bankrupt!” Ronnie chuckled coldly before turning around. “You can’t go, Harley…!” Westin stumbled off the ground, covering his face. He wanted to speak up, but he was sent flying a few feet away by Ronnie’s kick again. “Aaagh!” Westin happened to roll right beside Harvey. What a horrible sight. At this point, it wouldn’t be exaggerating to call him an outcast.