Then We Held Hands Novels & Stories

"Are you expecting anyone mum?" I asked She turned to me and shook her head, showing that she wasn't expecting anyone. Abruptly, the door opened. Oliver and I ran to mum and held her hand. We heard someone step into the room and the footsteps kept getting louder. I tightened the grip on my mothers hand burying my face in her gown, suddenly the footstep stopped and there was silence in the room. Read more to find out what happened.

#Book 1 in Alpha Series ≛ He was powerful He was terrifying He was huge He had the whole world under his feet, within his grasp but to him she was his world, she meant everything. He was feared by all but it only mattered that she was scared of him. He was worshipped by billions yet he worshipped the very ground she walked on. His calloused hands were capable of ripping people apart yet they only held her with tenderness and possessiveness. His claws ripped out throats yet they only extended towards her to play with her curls.

My wife, Alisha West, has always been obsessively frugal. After marrying her, my single guilty pleasure became blowing money on luxury watches—almost like revenge for how absurdly tightfisted she was. By the time our daughter, Elyse Day, turned 7, she had inherited every bit of her mother’s penny-pinching nature. The two of them looked completely out of place in our sprawling mansion. And I loved it. I’d slip into my latest custom-tailored suits and watch them wince at my credit card statements, their expressions twisted in quiet pain. Until one day, lines of floating text suddenly appeared before my eyes. [This spendthrift idiot is still shopping? Doesn’t he know his wife’s company is about to go bankrupt?] [She’s been drained dry supporting this parasite. Her T-shirt collar is practically worn out from washing. Good thing the financially savvy male lead is about to show up and save her.] [Can’t wait for Alisha to file for divorce and kick this useless freeloader out. Let’s see how he survives fighting stray dogs for scraps under a bridge.] I slammed the limited-edition Richard Mille watch onto the table. Alisha, who was crouched on the floor breaking down delivery boxes for recycling, and Elyse, who was helping stomp them flat, both jumped in shock. A chill ran through me. I lunged forward, snatched the battered cardboard box from Elyse’s hands, and held it tightly against my chest. "No… no more buying. I’m returning this watch. "And these boxes… don’t sell them. I think we might need them someday… to lay out under a bridge when we’re sleeping outside…"

My husband did not love me, and he certainly did not love our child. On the day our son was born, he did not even glance at him. He merely tossed him into my arms. Then, his first love came back from overseas. That night, the ever-cold Henry had gotten drunk for the first time. He even smiled as he held our child in his arms. Delighted, our son wrapped his little arms around my husband's neck and asked me in a soft voice, “Mommy, what’s wrong with Uncle?” I crouched down, pulling him into my embrace. My eyes reddened as I explained, “Uncle's favorite person came back, so we shouldn’t bother him anymore. We’re going to find a new home.”

I came to Chicago with my friend to visit her boyfriend. Three days in, her boyfriend said he'd show us "something fun." The car kept driving—farther and farther out. By the time we realized something was wrong, we were locked inside an abandoned factory. My friend was gone. Her boyfriend shoved me into a room and threw me a line: "Your friend sold you for twenty grand. Stay put and wait for arrangements." I scanned the room. A few men in black suits leaned against the doorway. Silver-gray pins on their chests. Shield-shaped. Dark red thorns. An inverted dagger. The family crest of Caleb Richardson—don of the New York mafia. I was held captive by him for three years. I barely escaped with my life— And now I've been handed right back to him.

I’m the Vettori family princess. The only one. It was our fifth anniversary. A big dinner party at the estate. A waiter spilled red wine on my husband Marco, heir to the Rossi family. My best friend, Sofia, slapped the waiter. Hard. Then she was all over Marco, helping him out of his jacket. Her hand lingered on his waist. A second too long. I just stood there, watching. Sofia saw me. "I was just closer, that's all. Helping him clean up. Don't overthink it." I just smiled. Grabbed my glass. I went to make the rounds with the old dons from the other families. I would finish this night with my head held high. Later that night, Marco crawled into my bed, stinking of booze. His hands were on my waist. He wanted sex. I pushed him off. "The alliance is over," I said, my voice dead. "We're finished." Marco sobered up fast. His face went cold. "I'm trying to apologize here. You're divorcing me because Sofia helped me with my jacket?" I laughed. He didn’t get it. Not until I threw the proof of his betrayal in his face. Not until I cut him off from my family. Then he was on his knees, crying, begging me to forgive him.

Marco met the other man's eyes. He refused to make it easy. Page broke the silence. "John is guilty as hell, we both know that, and he deserves to be punished. Two years on Gaphas would serve the bastard right! But why punish the entire Legion for the actions of one man? The last thing we need is more negative publicity". Marco started to reply, but the general held up a hand. "Give it some thought, that's all I ask. See you in court". The dismissal was clear. Marco stood, said, "Yes, sir," and turned toward the door. Page saw the mane of silvery gray fur that ran down the other man's neck and winced. A HALF BREED. What the hell was next? Officers with scales? It made him sick. The door closed, and Marco was gone.

After seven years of marriage, my husband grew tired of our quiet life and took a college student as his mistress. That fragile, pitiable girl held Alain Roth so completely he didn't come home for an entire month, no matter how I begged. On our son's third birthday, I came to their villa, holding the feverish child and pleading for him to return. Inside, he stayed lost in passion with her. Jeff Roth drew his last breath in my arms while their pleasure echoed through the night. At the funeral, Alain held me and wept, swearing he would return to the family and love only me. I agreed, driven solely by Jeff's dying wish. Four years later, a video from his old kindergarten surfaced, showing Alain with a radiant Mabel Flores and a three-year-old boy. The boy smiled brightly at the camera, lifting a trophy high. "Mom, Dad, we're the happiest family in the world!"

With the chaos that happened, Nathalia's grave was not finished. It was half filled. Wasted flowers scented the grounds. Shovels lie useless. Chairs scrambled in the area. A forlorn sight for the most feared woman in the society. As the rest of the people squandered for their lives, one man remains. The oldest friend. Three other men came. They picked the shovels as the old man orders. Slowly, they packed the unfilled grave. The old man held his hands to his back. Stared at the freshly dug soils. All these years, he lived behind the shadows of Nathalia. Hiding from the morbid influence of his kind. It's time to step out of the dark. To tell a story, Lucifer: Untold.

Olivia held out a glass of water, "Nothing to worry." She took it from her and nodded. She gulped the water hard from her throat. Liam would be furious. She was aware. His anger still scared her. They all left the room. Her heart began to thud thud in her ears. She didn't lift her head to watch him. She felt him. They left the room and did not say a word. He towered over her. She kept looking at her hands, looking at the circles over the tips of her fingers. "You'll take care of yourself or abortion," She heard him.