Wayward Pines Audiobook Novels & Stories

Ford's earlier arrogance was completely gone, yet he still refused to give up, instinctively searching for Sonya in the crowd. "Which nurse? What did she say?" Isaiah demanded sharply. "Say it to everyone's face. Whispering behind people's backs and stirring things up is a coward's move." Isaiah's expression was terrifyingly dark. His gaze swept over the crowd like a blade before locking onto Sonya, who was trying to shrink away. "Sonya? You again?! I knew something was off earlier. Mr. Stokes, did you hear her say something to you just now?" Ford hesitated.

“With my hands. With my violence. With whatever it takes.” “You can’t rewrite fate.” “I can rewrite the ending.” He didn’t say the rest. But I heard it anyway. Even if it kills me. ⸻ By the time we reached the SUV, the sky had shifted from early dawn to pale morning light. Birds perched on the rusting fence poles, watching silently as if they sensed the residue of something unnatural. Zach helped me into the passenger seat before walking around to the driver’s side. He didn’t slam the door, but he closed it harder than usual.

I pinch a strip of wildmint between my finger and thumb, smear it along the rim, then breathe a thin thread of light into the metal seam. “Sleep,” I whisper. A flicker of green, then nothing. No hum. No bite. Dead quiet. I jerk my chin. “Cross.” They do, in order: Nythor silent as snowfall; Fenrick with a wolf’s careless grace; Hadrian with an expression that says the log has personally offended him and must be defeated with dignity. The pine groans under him and holds. I pretend not to smirk. Past the gorge, the woods hunker down into thicker shadow. The Split Cedar stands ahead like a lightning struck sentinel, its heart cleaved and stitched with lichen. Wards hum here, my fingers tingle b

Knox’s POV Friday night hit different. He grabbed his favorite wings fried hard and fries extra crispy, buffalo style and headed home. He dropped the bag on the coffee table, kicked off his shoes, and let the silence of his apartment wrap around him like an old hoodie, comfortable, but worn out. He turned on some jazz. Real, moody stuff. Horns wailing in the background like they knew exactly how he felt. Then he threw on some Sade. Yeah… that Sade. The kind of voice that could peel back a man’s soul and leave it shivering on the floor.

“That’s the third ‘next left’ you’ve said in twenty minutes.” “This one is different.” “This one leads into trees. Actual trees. Like ‘there’s no more road’ trees.” I leaned forward. The sun was dipping behind a curtain of pine and thick ash trees, very unfamiliar if you ask me. “Just trust me,” I mumbled, fiddling with the hem of my sweater. “Trust you?” he barked a laugh. “That’s rich coming from the woman who nearly set herself on fire this morning.” “That was sage and spiritual. Not spontaneous combustion,” I snapped, then winced. “Okay, okay. This road looks... familiar.”

Mara and Fen join, their hands warm on my back and shoulder. For a moment, something like peace fills the clearing. The forest breathes. The wound in the earth quivers, waiting for us to begin. The past burns. The future begins. And Silverpine—pack, witch, and mother—may yet survive.

ARDEN The moment Cade pressed play on his phone, the entire clearing fell under a heavy silence. At first, the recording sounded grainy, typical for a recording of this nature, but then Mr. Winters' voice emerged with clarity. “This is the start of your downfall. Of everything. You should be grateful you have your parents… because quite frankly, you’d be six feet under if you didn’t.” Gasps fluttered through the crowd. I could see the disbelief on their faces.

Chapter 129: The Final Disposition The golden afternoon light slowly turned into a deep amber twilight. This twilight cast shadows across the mahogany shelves of the upper library. Outside the wind made a sound as it went through the heavy pine trees of the Hudson Valley. This was a sound compared to the big storms that had been a part of their lives for the past three years. Inside the only sound was the crackle of the hearth fire as it slowly burned the thick oak logs.