The Westing Game Novels & Stories

West said as he entered the attic of the pack house where Wendy now spent long hours searching for the cure to the plague on the werewolves. "West, I understand your desire to fight this head-on, but this time we have to fight smart and not hard," she said. "What if fighting smart or hard is the wrong way to win this battle, why don't we just strike a deal with her, there's no harm in that," West said. "West, we both know that she's not the type to strike deals and fufill her own part, she is evil advocate why would we confront her?" Wendy said as she made no sense of what West was driving at.

He sorted through the order of the tracks for a long, long time, and then put it on repeat nothing more than an open message. Maybe my fantasy played out against the backdrop of frenzied hormones, and I invented everything for myself, but the male voice, bawling in English, made me think deeply and for a long time. About Jan's sanity. And about mine too. "..."S" - simplicity, "E" - ecstasy, “X” is just to leave a mark, because that’s the only thing you really want…” Strongly suspecting that this was how the werewolf was testing me for strength, she turned indifferently towards the window, looking first at the flickering country landscape, and then at the familiar cottages of the village in w

A silly little game, that is all it was supposed to be but it turned to so much more. It was four years ago and I was fourteen. It was my brother's going away party. At sixteen male werewolves go to academy to serve in the military and prepare for their adult roles in the pack. My brother Bo and his best friend Drake were leaving the next day. The adults had already called it a night and the teenagers had somehow ended up in the basement playing truth or dare, typical dumb kid stuff. When it came to Drake's turn, he was challenged to draw a name from a cup and go play seven minutes in heaven with them. He drew my name. I had always had a crush on Drake and this was my chance. He was gorgeous

I said, motioning for her to follow. The basement was dimly lit, the single bulb casting jagged shadows on the rough concrete walls. Western was tied to a chair, his wrists bound tightly, his face a mask of defiance despite the swelling around his eye. Peter was next to him, smirking as if he had already won some unspoken game. “Well, well,” Peter drawled, his gaze locking onto me. “You actually got him. Didn’t think you had it in you, Copperfield.” Western spat on the floor, his glare venomous. “And what now? You think tying me up changes anything?”

West nodded, his eyes narrowing as he took in the information. I couldn't shake the feeling that we were missing something, that there was more to the story than what we were being told. The dungeon seemed quiet, almost too quiet. And I couldn't help but wonder what secrets lay hidden in the shadows, waiting to be uncovered. As West ventured into the dungeon, I waited anxiously outside, my senses on high alert. The silence was oppressive, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. After what felt like an eternity, West emerged, his expression unreadable. He shook his head, confirming that nothing was amiss. "Let's go home, Kristoff, you're free to go," he said, his voice firm b

Weston shrugs while fixing his polo shirt, "Aucella gave the numbers, and I needed cash for a new PlayStation. Yes, the same one you broke." "You broke a PlayStation?" I gawked at Easton. "I accidentally spilled coffee on it and said I was sorry!" "Sorry ain't gonna fix it, bud." Weston shook his head, "And look, I sold her your ideas but it's fine. There are rules about copyright thingies even for the Geeks, right?" He rolls his eyes. "You have to calm down, East. I told you, I have everything under control."

Jacob grabs his phone from the kitchen counter, “Shoot did you text me or something? I didn’t check my phone!” “I figured that much.” I chuckle. “So what you guys were doing?” Jacob tells me they just came home and plan to play some games on his Xbox. West tells him, “We can play Injustice... She is very good at it.” Jacob turns his head. “Really?” I want to roll my eyes again. Why do people get surprised as if gaming is some rocket science? But I settled on a shrug. “I was! We can play to figure out if I still am.” It’s an old game I enjoyed.

I heard about the game from two girls in my Victorian lit class. "Westbrook's playing tonight," one of them said to the other, loud enough that the whole row could hear. "If they win this one Ashton's basically back in contention for Sportsman of the Year." "What time?" "Seven. Are you going?" "Obviously." I wrote down seven, closed my notebook, and said nothing. He hadn't told me. We had sat on a hallway floor the previous night sharing pasta and something that felt dangerously close to honesty and he hadn't mentioned a single word about a game today.

The doorbell made both of them stunned when they put the bottles of the beer on the table and stood up to walk to the door. The moment they looked out of the window, the two tall men towered outside the door. "They are here!" David gulped in nervousness, Weston didn't bother to open the door, instead, he turned to walk away. Then a loud knock on the door and it slammed open. The two men stepped in looking around when their gazed fixed on the coffin. Walking up to the coffin they were paused by David and Weston. "No. She is resting. Do not touch her. She is the wife of Maddox Dasher..."

“All I know is she went to meet a rogue named Alec.” My muscles tensed, hearing the name. Alec—the vicious rogue. My wolf growled at the thought. “What direction did she go?” Andrew pressed. “East, toward the unclaimed territory,” Mac replied quietly. I exhaled deeply, stepping back, thinking quickly. I sent a command to Andrew through our mind link: “We head east. Take a few wolves with me.” He nodded in understanding. I made my command loud enough for Mac to hear, to ensure he felt the weight of his words.