There's A Hundred And Four Days Novels & Stories

Four days to snare the deadliest man I'd ever caught. Four days to bring this thing to a halt, one way or another.

"Forty-seven more days." "Forty-seven more days," I confirmed.

"Four days." "Four?" he repeated, like the number had suddenly acquired weight. "I moved nothing important," I said. "I checked what actually required me. There are four days I can leave without the programme becoming smaller because I'm gone." "Then that's four days," he said, simple, no congratulations attached, just understanding. "I think I can come for four days." He went completely still. "Say something." "I'm deciding whether saying what I'm thinking will make you change your mind."

And just like that— an entire chapter of our lives closed. The room felt strangely empty afterward. Roman cleared his throat. "The wedding is in four days." My stomach immediately dropped. Four. Only four. Alessio glanced sideways at me. The faintest hint of amusement appeared in his eyes. He noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything. Infuriating man. Roman continued speaking. Security plans. Guest lists. Protection routes. Emergency protocols. Most of it blurred together. Because my mind had become trapped on one sentence. Four days.

Dylan Thomson's first love, Jocelyn Wilkes, had returned from Northia. That day, he poured me a cup of water with sweet clover added to it and handed it to me. "The silver venom has penetrated her bones. She only has 21 days left and wants to spend her last days of life with me." He spoke very calmly, as if he were talking about the weather that day. There was no trace of emotion in his voice at all. I frowned. "At a time like this, she should be looking for the pack's elders, shouldn't she? Why is she looking for you?"

One finger taps his wrist, a silent countdown. Twelve days are over.

For a moment, I thought I might actually cry. Just then, Ethan’s phone buzzed. He pulled it out and frowned at the screen before answering. “Yes?” He listened for a moment, then his expression grew serious. “Three days? Are you sure?” Another pause. “Alright. Thank you for letting me know.” He hung up and looked at me with a grim expression. “What is it?” I asked. “The Elder Council meeting has been moved up,” Ethan said. “It’s in three days now.” “What does that mean for me?”

"Ouch again. Well, it is thirteen days from today." "On a fucking Saturday?" "Yes. And it also appears that my rut cycle shall me very, very close to that date."

Just enough to breathe. Four days left. But for the first time it felt like enough.

The bond hummed. I opened the folder. Twenty-six days.