Through My Window Series Novels & Stories

Adrain's Pov I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of my study, the glass of water in my hand cold and untouched. The sun was rising over the city, and from this height, everything looked peaceful. But I knew better. In a few minutes, the name "Daniel Brooks" was going to be the most hated headline in the financial district.

This place is goin' down in flames, and it’s goin' down fast. I walk back out to my bike and park it across the street, sittin' there like it’s movie night, watchin' the windows fill with smoke. The poppin' sound of bottles and wood explodin' echoes in the quiet, and I can’t help but smile wider. The fire bursts through the windows, shards of glass rainin' down, and I laugh. It’s so beautiful, so perfect.

I almost made myself an enemy of the population by tattling my ward mates’ play dead plan. “The chef cooked more meat this time. It’s a shame that your neighbours have fallen asleep already.” I shifted my gaze because I felt awkward after lying. These women should thank me. Then my eyes caught the view on the window. “The moon is beautiful today, Miss.” “Hmmm. I thought so.” But the wind is too cold outside. I can’t risk my health to see it up close. “The windows are made of thick glass. The cold breeze outside won’t be able to seep their way inside.”

The monster who took everything from me. I turn toward the window, my only connection to the outside world. The moonlight spills across the floor, casting eerie shadows that stretch toward me like ghostly fingers. The night is alive with the sounds of the forest—crickets chirping, the distant howl of a wolf, the rustling of leaves in the wind. The wind. My pulse quickens. If I can feel the wind, that means this window isn’t sealed shut. Moving quickly, I cross the room and press my hands against the wooden frame. The glass is old, the wood slightly warped. If I apply enough force—

With everything I have in me I swing it at the window, but nothing happens. "Come on!" I yell, banging the frame against the window over and over again and nothing ever happens. The heat from the fire causes beads of sweat to form all over my body. It's angry breath slowly creeps it way to me. What do I do? I'm stuck! The window will not break and I can't get through the door. I begin to cough, because now all the oxygen is being burned away by the fire. My blankets begin to burn. I swing at the window again and I heave a sigh of relief as a small crack forms.

Then I went and stood at the window. The mountain was down below me. Lanterns lit the ways down. In the nighttime, patrol wolves ran around in the darkness. Several windows had the archive lights still on. Life. Steady. Growing. The network buzzed, reverberating beneath it all. Ninety-two threads. Connected. Different. Home. I placed one hand on the window. Then I glanced out over Valley Creek and came to terms with the truth. I'm pregnant. The words still didn't feel like a reality.

His cock filling me while thirty stories of city watch through the glass. I moan against the window. My breath fogs the glass. His hands grip my hips – the first time his hands have been on my body below the neck – and he pulls me back onto his cock while pressing me forward against the window. The cold glass on my tits, the hot cock in my pussy, the city below – the contrasts shatter me.

Julian’s POV I stood at the big window in my office, the one that looks straight down into the back gardens. The sun was almost gone, painting everything in that soft orange shit that makes the flowers look fake. My glass of whiskey sat untouched on the desk behind me. I wasn’t in the mood to drink. I was in the mood to break something. There they were.

It was the only window that was destroyed out of the hundred others. As I slowly turned my head downwards and my face was finally facing the ground I could see huge scratch marks on the shards of glass lying on the floor. My knees went weak from sheer terror as various thoughts and scenarios started rushing into my mind. Was it done by the same creature I saw before? Was it after me? Did it break the window so it could catch me? What even is that thing? And why does it want me? Is it the reason why everyone has gone missing? Why was I the only one who was spared?

I spent the rest of the day in my room, and by night the packhouse was silent around me. I stood by the window, the same window Julius once found words burned across. Now the glass was clean. At least it looked that way. Outside, the world breathed slow. Inside, my reflection watched me too closely. I leaned nearer. It leaned back, but a beat late. “Stop,” I whispered. It smiled. In my own voice it said, He’s not the only one watching. A hairline crack split the glass from top to bottom, thin as lightning. I stumbled back, pressing my hand to the mark that had begun to pulse again.