Novelas y relatos de Wayward Pines

The moment he confirmed that I put on the seatbelt, he hit the gas and we revved away from the hospital. “Care to explain? This is not some kidnapping attempt, right?” I asked. “Oh, yeah. Right.” He reached out for something in the compartment of his car and handed a picture to me. “That’s Xavier Hawthorn. He is that guy I told you about. He is a mercenary with no master. Just pay him and he will be your loyal dog for as long as you can.” “A mercenary, huh. That means that his master is money itself. If someone else pays him more than I could, then he would surely turn against me. What a great suggestion you have here, Kyle.”

Amid the crisp sound of glasses colliding, I took a sip of the cold beer. The chill slid down my throat, but somehow, it warmed my heart. The road ahead was long, yet there was no reason to look back. Somewhere out there, beyond the horizon, an open wilderness was still waiting for me.

He grabbed my chin and continued, "Pretending to have someone you like, trying to make me angry? Don't even think about liking anyone else in this lifetime." I forcefully turned my head away, staring out of the window at the dark sky. The city below twinkled with neon lights. He snorted, casually saying, "I'll take you to the nearby island for a quick tour, like a honeymoon. Afterward, we'll get our marriage certificate." The comments flashed across my mind. [Owen pretends not to care, but inside, he can't wait to get the marriage certificate.] [When he heard you say you liked someone else, his heart skipped a beat. Thankfully, his mind quickly shifted. How could you possibly like someone el

‘I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference. Hope finishes it for me, and smiled at me. A world that is less traveled. Unlike downtown New York, the air is crisp and fresh and wild animals roam the land which is rich in vegetation and greenery. During its lifetime over half a million deciduous and evergreen trees have been planted all over the property. “Home sweet home.” I put my arm around Hope as we got out of the car and stood in front of the dramatic striking and architectural profound Pines Lodge against this tapestry of tall trees.

For a brief moment, they were overcome by warmth, and then it dissolved, as soon as they again drowned in the shadows under the crowns of a palisade of centuries-old pines and spruces. - What fresh air here! — Kayla said enthusiastically, enjoying the breeze coming from the half-open window. She gracefully tucked a strand of resin that had escaped from her hair behind her ear and turned to her daughter, who was sitting in the back seat. Her face lit up with a smile: “Lia, isn’t this a wonderful place?” - It couldn’t be more wonderful. It’s reminiscent of a hackneyed opening to a horror film: there’s wilderness all around, and we, like banal stupid heroes, are going to a forgotten town where

“Feel all right this morning? Burnam was up at daylight and rode off to look at the woods. He left word for you and me to go over your tract and report. Had your breakfast? Well, go get it quick.” Joe hurried over the meal, had Snowball brought round, and they rode off, Wilson going with them. The former wagon-trail into the woods was badly choked with fallen timber; they had to make continual detours, and pick their way among the pines. The big turpentine tract lay in a rough rectangle north and south, and the storm, passing right down the middle, had raked it from end to end. The magnificent pines strewed the ground, were broken off at mid-height, stood leaning against one another, ready t

He didn’t want this, didn’t want to fool with things best left alone . He slapped the wheel. Put the car into drive, turned off Beartown and parked in the pull-off on Hollow. He killed the engine. Sat back and folded his arms, debating with himself until he indulged in another curse he hadn’t used since college. “Fuck it.” Before he understood what he was doing, Father Ward was exiting the car. He shoved his hands into his jacket pockets and stood there in the cool morning air. He examined the area and saw nothing unusual. Thick stands of tall Adirondack pine. Ditches soon to be filled with Black-eyed Susans and milkweed, come summer. Goldenrod and other weeds . . .

Beyond them the pines rose in dense columns, their needles dark and glossy, the spaces between them dim as twilight. Each step away from the clearing felt like stepping off a map. The river’s sound faded. The bond in Ava’s head, that strange hum, grew sharper and more directional, like a compass pulling toward true north. She glanced back once — the circle of stones, the faint smoke rising into the mist, the last visible piece of their old world — and then she followed the wolves.

“One south, one deeper into the pines.” The warriors shifted, waiting for orders. Cain’s gaze flicked to me. “Raven.” I blinked. “What?” “Which way?” The air thickened. Every eye turned on me. Testing. Doubting. I swallowed hard, leaned closer to the ground. One trail was messy, chaotic, full of broken branches and blood drops. The other, cleaner. Purposeful. Almost too neat. A trap. “They want us south,” I said slowly, pointing at the messy trail. “That’s the bait. The real path’s through the pines.”

​I grabbed the Web. ​It felt like grabbing a handful of razor wire. The silver threads sliced into my consciousness, the feedback from the ruined city screaming through my nerves. I gasped, my knees buckling, but Cassian held me upright. ​“Focus on the North, Winnie,” he whispered into my ear, his voice a low, steady rumble. “See the ice. Smell the pines. We are going home.” ​I pictured the Obsidian Tree. I pictured the silver needles and the golden sap. I found the thread that connected this ruined harbor to our mountain, and I pulled.