Yae Stories Novels & Stories

I yanked the door open, my eyes meeting the gaze of each member of the Lauren household, their faces etched in worry. “Any news?” Ralph asked, a hint of disappointment in his voice. I shook my head, walking over to Elena who looked exhausted. My lips lowered, brushing against hers as I whispered, “It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” I assured, pulling her close in a warm embrace. As if timed correctly, the buzzing of my phone reverberated through the air. I dug my hand into my pocket and dragged it out effortlessly. “Raymond speaking,” My voice hoarse. “I decided to play this game again, let's call it a rematch, shall we?” the voice at the other end said.

He let out the friendliest of smiles, making Anderson very uncomfortable. Anderson stared back and forth between Suit and the scroll. His mind was racing. The contract sounded simple enough. Straightforward, but he did not understand. ‘What did he mean by survive the stories? Did he not say I was going to tell a story? What does survive the story mean?’ Question after question popped up into his head. He could not help himself. He had no idea exactly what it meant, but one thing was for certain; He would not move forward if he did nothing but constantly question the situation

The capital of the great Ilysterion kingdom. * “You don’t understand! I need to see him now!” Yelling desperately, I tried to break free but to no avail. This half-fae, half-werewolf bastard was too strong. “Jade, please!” I cried out defeated, willing my body to obey and giving my best pout. But this bitch only looked down on me, his dark green eyes warning to not mess up with him. Okay, something was definitely wrong cause he wasn’t usually like that with me.

Kylan’s hand rubbed slow circles on Daniel’s back, a big palm almost covering half of it. “Rain’s coming down hard already,” Kylan added, nodding toward the windows where fat drops were starting to streak the glass. “No going out now. We should do something. Like old times.” Daniel pulled back just enough to look between us, his eyes flicking from my face to Kylan’s. “What, like video games? I was gonna sort these games for when everyone gets back—” “Nah,” I cut him off, grinning as I ruffled his hair. “Truth or Dare. Proper bonding shit. Are you in or are you scared we’ll find out all your secrets?”

“Then maybe that’s your answer.” Later that night, Ryan stood by his window. The streetlights blurred in the distance. His inbox pinged again a reply from L. Tansey, offering a call. He didn’t answer yet. Instead, he opened a blank page. And he typed: “A Story That Doesn’t Belong To You” by Ryan Calloway He stared at the title for a long moment. Then under it, he wrote: “This isn’t a story about revenge. It’s about reclaiming.” Two weeks later.