Unopened Rose Novels & Stories

“Clara has allies. One attacked me in the tunnels. And he said something something that chilled me to the bone.” Ares stood, alert now. “What?” I looked him dead in the eyes. “He said, she will rise.” His jaw clenched. “It could be Clara” “No,” I interrupted. “It wasn’t said like a threat. It was said like a prophecy.” Ares paled slightly, and in that moment, I knew he’d heard something similar before. “What aren’t you telling me?” I demanded. He hesitated. Then slowly, he pulled something from his coat. A torn scroll, brittle with age. Symbols written in red ink. Not just words. Marks. Sacred, forbidden ones.

"It means The Black Rose are no longer invisible!" The Black Rose? The company Elijah said he started up with his friends? My eyes narrowed as I turned slightly and looked at the man. Something in my eyes must've looked rather hilarious; he burst out laughing again. "To think they would slip up enough and let you come out in the open or..." He tilted his head to the side, the sick glint in his eyes spreading. "Do you not know why you're here?" I shook my head, words failing me. This was the lowest I'd been. My heart pounded and ached with frustration and an emotion that felt dangerously similar to anger.

– hidden beneath the surface. Later, as I was organizing his desk, I found a small, intricately carved wooden box. Curiosity overriding my better judgment, I opened it. Inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, was a single, perfect white rose. My breath caught in my throat. White roses were traditionally given as a symbol of purity, of innocence, of… new beginnings. My omega whimpered, a faint, hopeful sound that I quickly suppressed. It couldn't be. It was just a rose. Perhaps it was meant for a visiting dignitary, or a potential mate.

It only has my name and this address on it, so there’s no telling who sent it unless I open it. Pushing away from my desk, I stand to my feet as I loosen the bowtie holding the sides of the box together, prepared to run out of my cubicle if it comes down to it. When the I open the box, I frown at the content of it. Black roses. Dead ones. I’m too confused and terrified to touch it, so I gently pick up the white card nestled next to the roses and lift it with shaking hands. You should never have been the only one on the receiving end of his love.

in a split second, stepping in front of me as he headed to the door. He opened it to find nothing but a small, elegantly wrapped box sitting on the mat. No delivery person. No car in the driveway. Zander brought it inside, his jaw set tight. He opened it carefully to find a single, preserved white rose. It was dipped in silver, the petals looking dangerously sharp. Beneath it was a heavy, vellum card with a scent that made my blood run cold. Oud. I picked up the card, my fingers trembling as I saw the watermark at the bottom—a stylized siren.

or maybe not. Then I noticed something on the bench beside me. A single black rose. I've never seen a black rose before. It's beautiful,rare and unique. I wonder who gave it to me. I looked around, but there was no one in sight. Not a single soul. Just the rose... and the strange chill that came with it. I blinked. It hadn't been there before. Had it? It was delicate and dark, almost unreal. Like something out of a dream or a warning.

That night, Marcus jumped from the old Leedon Tower. The next morning, the headlines were filled with news of his suicide. Cecilia didn’t dare look at the gruesome photos. Lucas handled Marcus’s funeral arrangements. Across the entire city, every headline reported Marcus’s death. But there was one reason no one else knew. When Marcus died, he was still holding a vivid red rose in his hand. And Cecilia suddenly remembered something from when she was fifteen. “Marcus, what kind of flower do you think I’m like?” The girl leaned close, and the boy looked up at her, the corners of his eyes curving slightly.

I looked at Enzo, he gave me a look. "You know what to do", I told him and smiled. Enzo nods and I walk out. I get to my office, pour a whiskey dry. Sit behind my desk, I hear Enzo walk in. He looks at me and shakes his head. I look up at him and ask, "what"? He just sits down in the chair across from. The club is going to be opening soon. I get up and go to the bathroom attached to my office and wash off the pricks blood off my hand.

Our cab had already arrived, so we got in and headed straight for Reno’s Boutique — one of the biggest in New York. I’d only heard about the place from Marielle, but stepping inside was something else entirely. The glass walls gleamed, the scent of expensive perfume filled the air, and designer dresses shimmered under the warm lights. I ran my fingers across one of them, smiling a little for the first time in days. Tessa and I started browsing through the racks. When we reached the trousers section, I picked a few to try on — and that was when I saw her. Marielle. She was clinging to Adrian’s arm like her life depended on it, laughing too loudly, too sweetly. The moment her eyes met mine, he