Unknown Among Us Novels & Stories

╰───────────────────────╯ ╭───────────────────────╮ Unknown: If you want to know the truth about your husband, then come to this address. You will find all of the answers. ╰───────────────────────╯ I stared at the messages long and hard. And for the first time, I replied. ╭───────────────────────╮ You: Who are you? ╰───────────────────────╯ ╭───────────────────────╮ Unknown: You'll know soon. All you need to do is get to this address. Hint: your husband might be there...

“What? Who is the person?” “Anonymous, Ashley.”

ME: IT'S NOT LIKE ANYONE WOULD KNOW. HALE: WHICH PART? ME THINKING ABOUT YOU OR YOU BEING MY PATIENT? ME: PATIENT. HALE: DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW MUCH TROUBLE I COULD GET IN? ME: BUT ONLY IF SOMEONE KNEW YOU WERE TREATING ME, CORRECT? HALE: WELL, YES, BUT SOMEONE'S GOING TO FIND OUT IF WE SEE EACH OTHER AND YOU START TO SHOW. ME: HALE: DON'T DO THAT. I'M ALREADY HAVING A TOUGH TIME WITH THIS.

The last thing I saw before the world went completely black was the figure’s eyes, glowing with a terrible, ancient knowledge. And then I woke up. Gasping for air, drenched in sweat. But even as I lay in my bed, safe in the light of my room, the figure’s voice echoed in my head, a sinister promise that I couldn’t shake. “You’re one of us, Damien. You cannot run from what you are.” As if the mystery of Mr. Thompson’s disappearance wasn’t enough, another mystery has presented itself. At first I thought that by “You’re one of us.” He meant that I was a werewolf but I already knew that, but as I stayed there floating above my bed, I knew that this society he claimed I belonged to was more than j

noticed the whole thing they'd fought for crumbling. Her phone buzzed one final time earlier than they took it. A message from an unknown variety. Just four words. "Project Endgame is active." What the hell was Project Endgame?

CHAPTER 187 ~3RD PERSON'S POV~ “Hello, lady Anaya. My name is THE UNKNOWN, and I'm here to end your life,” The Unknown said with a blank expression on his face. His eyes glowed even brighter than before, and thick black smoke suddenly enveloped both of his hands, slowly morphing into sharp blades. “Everybody, run!!” Mary and Edith yelled, and the entire crowd started to move around in panic. The soldiers that were present in the hall helped guide the people out through multiple exits, allowing women and children to go out first.

Now a new card. “UNKNOWN – Zurich. Coin drive. External operator.” I pinned it at the top. Above Damon. Because whoever this was, they outranked everyone. I stared at the grid and whispered, “This isn’t just about revenge anymore. It’s survival.” The laptop flickered. Then locked. I didn’t touch it. A second later, the burner buzzed. No contact ID. Five words. > “He knows what’s in the archive.” Then a second message: “He’s not afraid of it. That should scare you.”

With that, I ended the call. My phone buzzed again and I picked it up, thinking it was Devon until I saw it was an unknown number. A single text was sent. I opened the message. Unknown: We need to see. That was cryptic. See where exactly. I didn’t want to, but I sent a text to the number. Me: Who are you? It didn’t take long for the person to reply. Unknown: We need to see. My jaw tightened. "We need to see"? See what? See who?

You were never a coincidence. Her phone vibrated again, lighting up the room in a cold blue glow. A new message. Unknown: “You should’ve stayed out of his world.” Amara’s pulse spiked. She scrambled up and typed back with shaking fingers. Amara: “Who are you?” Unknown: “Someone who knows what happens next.” Then the screen went black. Her throat went dry. The air in the room shifted - heavier, quieter. And then she heard it. A sound. Soft. Slow.

Just then, a notification pinged on my phone—a message from an unknown number. My heart raced as I opened it, revealing a single line: "You don’t know the whole story about Ryan." My breath caught in my throat. Who was this? What did they know? I felt a chill run down my spine, and my instincts screamed that I was on the brink of uncovering something monumental. I quickly texted back, demanding to know who they were, but the response was immediate: "Meet me at the café on 5th at noon. Bring no one." The clock ticked ominously as I weighed my options, torn between fear and the desperate need for answers.