Fading Echo Novels & Stories

I stand before the pack members, condemned by whispers and stares that cut deeper than any blade. Branded a killer, but I am no murderer. Yet, their accusations cling to me like a shroud, suffocating every shred of hope within me. “I’ll never reject you, Ivanna, but I’ll make your life hell.” His words echo throughout the hall. A cruel reminder of the torment that awaits me. “I’ll forever punish you for what you did to me and the pack.” My mate’s voice, once a source of strength, now drips with venomous hatred. “You’ll remain as my mate, and I’ll remain your nightmare.” “I didn’t kill her!” I protest, but he sees only a liar, a traitor to the pack. His fist hits my cheek, a brutal punishment for crimes I did not commit. “Liar!” He barks. “You killed her. And I’ll do the same to you. Slowly. Painfully. Until you’re choking on your last breath and desperately ready to tell the truth. That you killed her.” —---------------------------------------------------- When the Luna mysteriously dies before my eyes, everyone tags me as her killer. I go through hell and back. My life becomes an endless circle of misery. But I won’t break. I won’t give in to my abusers, no matter how brutally they try to break my soul. I’m determined to fight till the end. Until I’ve proven to them that I’m not the Luna’s Killer.

I shivered in the darkness, the air stale, damp and cold making goosebumps appear on my bare skin. The low rumbles and huffs which were coming from behind made me a little scared, and I knew the beast was still there, watching me with interest. I knew screaming and calling for help was futile since my voice was already hoarse for trying to scream the past few hours, but the only thing to be heard was my echo, and the snarl that followed next. I heard it shift and felt it's soft fur brush against my body and skin. I swallowed hard and held in my voice. The more it leaned in, the more my heart beat wildly, and I tried to move away from it. It's warm breath brushed against my cold skin making me shiver in response. I couldn't see but I had an idea what it wanted. I kept resisting but it was much stronger than I was, easily able to pull my thin legs apart. It showed it's dominance as a way to make me submit. I knew I wasn't strong enough to fight or escape it, but that didn't mean I was going to willingly do what the beast said, at least at that minute. But everything changed when I felt it's big head dip between my legs, easily parting them to the extreme, and a rough, yet soft , in my opening. I couldn't help the moan that left my lips. The was long, rough, and filled me to the brim, and that's when I knew I was in . The beast wanted to breed with me.

Ean's face twisted with anger as he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the old, rusted freezer in the corner of the warehouse. "You're going to feel what Helen felt," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with her." I struggled against him, panic rising in my chest. "Ean, this is insane! It was an accident! Let me explain—" He wasn’t listening. He shoved me inside the freezing metal box and slammed the door shut. The echo of the lock clicking into place made my heart pound in my ears. I banged on the door with my fists. "Ean, please! You can’t do this!" I screamed, but the sound of his footsteps grew fainter as he walked away. He left me with nothing but a single bowl of water, like I was some kind of prisoner. I slumped against the cold metal, shivering. The temperature plummeted almost instantly. The hum of the freezer kicked in, and I realized too late—it wasn’t broken like he thought. It was working, and I was trapped. My body shook uncontrollably as the cold seeped into my bones. I screamed for help until my throat was raw, clawing at the walls in desperation. My bloody handprints smeared across the icy surface, a silent plea for mercy that no one would hear. Seven days passed. When Ean finally returned, the look on his face was one of smug satisfaction. He had expected me to beg, to apologize. But when they pried open the freezer, all they found was my frozen body, stiff and silent, my suffering long over.

For six years, I was the perfect wife. I ironed the linen. I cut the roses. I swallowed every humiliation with a smile. And told myself that patience was the same thing as strength. I was wrong. When my husband sat me down at my own dinner table and ordered me to apologize to his mistress—The woman he had been choosing over me, openly, for years—something inside me didn't Break. It crystallized. I picked up my bag. I walked out into the Detroit Cold. And three blocks later, standing under a streetlamp on East Jefferson, I made a phone call that shattered everything I thought I knew about myself. My name is not what he called me. I am not the powerless orphan he laughed at as I walked out his door. I am not the woman with nowhere to go and no one waiting for her. I am Serena Caldwell—lost daughter of a billionaire empire, heiress to legacy twenty years in the making. And the last woman my husband ever should have humiliated at her own table. He thought discarding me was the easiest thing he had ever done. He had no idea it was the last mistake he would ever make. I spent six years being invisible. Now I am coming back—not as the broken wife he betrayed, but as the woman who will dismantle everything he built, brick by brick, until there is nothing left but the echo of his own arrogance. He wanted me gone. He has no idea what gone look like yet.

"Why can’t you just leave me alone?" Valentina snarled, breath hitching as she shoved against the bark of the tree behind her. He stepped closer, eyes glowing with an untamed hunger. In one swift, possessive motion, he pinned her hands above her head, his lips grazing the pulse at her neck—dangerously close to the spot only a mate should touch. “Because, little wolf,” he whispered, his voice dark velvet against her skin, “you belong to me—and I’m done pretending otherwise.” _______ Stabbed by the man she once loved and betrayed by the friend she trusted most, Valentina was reborn in the ashes of heartbreak. No longer the obedient luna of the Shadow Crust pack, she rises from the shadows to reclaim her life—and her power. But home is no longer safe. Her pack is in ruins. Her father? Bewitched by a mysterious woman named Carmella. And fate? Cruel, as always. Because waiting for her in the heart of the storm is the man she should never desire—Andres Donovan, the cold and dangerously obsessive Lycan King… and her second-chance mate. He watches her with eyes full of secrets, speaks in riddles that echo of a past she can’t remember, and touches her like he’s been starving for centuries. But as enemies close in, alliances fracture, and war brews over the divine blood flowing in her veins, Valentina must decide: Will she fight fate again… Or surrender to the one man who could ruin her—or save her?

BOOK TWO OF FATED TO MY LYCAN BROTHER The goddess's disdain for me reached its peak at this moment. Slade had slipped away, his breath fading in my arms. But how did he transform into Rafael, the leader of the rogues in the Eclipse Moon Pack? "You reek of blood, I spill," Rafael sneered, his Italian accent oozing with disdain. "Then end me," I murmured, swallowing hard as anxiety coursed through my veins. It wasn't mere proximity or desire that quickened my pulse. No, it was the dangerous gleam in his eyes—a promise of peril and sinful pleasure. "I have other methods," he replied, placing a paper on the table. "I'm rejecting you." "Why?" I stuttered, my eyes widening as I stared at the paper. "I used you, my dear. Your mission is complete. Return to your pack..." ______________ Winter, cast aside once more, fell into the clutches of the Rogue King. Divorced and rejected within a single day, she believed nothing could be worse—until she discovered him with another woman in their shared bed! Seeking answers about the uncanny resemblance between Slade and Rafael and questioning if he genuinely was her destined mate, Winter embarked on a quest for truth. He was Rafael—the deranged King of Rogues— both feared and revered; a forgotten past haunted him. The woman who had plagued his dreams had materialised before him, holding the key to his enigma. Yet, an unexplainable urge to push her away filled him whenever she drew near. Their fragile connection faced turmoil when a jealous ex-lover interfered, leaving Winter suffocating in anguish as she cursed the goddess responsible for her repetitive agony. Rafael, realising too late their destined bond, clung desperately to their fragile union. Would Winter forgive him? And would they uncover the answers they yearned for?

“You get to save one, Alpha. Who’s it going to be, your Luna, or your mistress?” “Three…” the man with the gun began to countdown. “Two!” “Lucian…” I whispered, my voice trembling. “And--” “Mira! Let Mira live!” Lucian’s roar cut him off, and my world went silent. I didn’t hear the mocking laughter or Mira’s pitiful sobs as they dragged her to safety. All I heard was that choice of the mate I’d loved for four years, as he decided I wasn’t worth saving. So, when the bullet tore through me finally, I didn’t scream, I just fell, feeling the world fading into black. That day, I died. Or......... did I? Because three years later, the Alpha who left me to die will kneel before the Alpha of Alphas, a masked beauty feared by all. A woman. And that woman? Is me. *** For four years, Selene Rory tried to be the perfect Luna to Alpha Lucian Blackwell. She believed love could fix anything… until the night he chose another woman over her life. Shot, betrayed, and left to die, Selene should have been gone forever. But the moon goddess had other plans. Now, Three years later, Selene is no longer the soft Luna who waited for scraps of affection. She’s the Alpha of Alphas, a confident and strategic beauty who bows to no man. And when Lucian finally meets her again, it’s him who will be brought to his knees. The question is… will she take him back Or will another Alpha willing to burn the world for her claim what Lucian so easily threw away? But what if there’s something even bigger at play… a conspiracy that could destroy them all?

I was born with an intellectual disability and congenital analgesia, the inability to feel pain. Since I was a child, I had been the human punching bag who took beatings meant for my younger sister. Whenever my sister was caught sneaking snacks, Mom would grab me by the hair and slam my head against the wall. Blood would run down my face from my head, yet I never made a sound. When my sister was caught cheating in an exam, Mom whipped me with a belt the entire afternoon. My skin split and my flesh torn, yet I could still manage a smile. Every time she saw me covered in injuries, my sister would throw her arms around me tightly and cry her eyes out. She would say she was wrong and promise never to misbehave again. Mom would be pleased at that, convinced she had disciplined us well. And so, for sixteen years, I had endured every punishment meant for my sister. Until the latest monthly exam, when my sister dropped a place in the rankings. Mom called her over as usual and, out of habit, she raised her hand toward me. The slap sent the back of my head crashing into the corner of a cabinet, and blood spilled across the floor. Through my fading consciousness, I saw Mom nodding in satisfaction and pulling my sister, who was wailing her heart out, to her feet. “There, there. Stop crying. You’ve had your punishment. Let’s go eat something nice and calm yourself.” Watching their retreating figures, my eyelids grew heavier by the second. It seemed to hurt a little this time. I’d better get well soon… After all, they’d need me again the next time my sister made another mistake.

Before our wedding, my fiancée, Sarah Hargrave—a professor of medieval history—held a private ceremony in a secluded chapel in the countryside. But not with me. Under the glow of candlelight, she cradled Benjamin Wheeler—her first love, his face gaunt from the cancer consuming him—in her arms. Her smile was soft, almost reverent, as she murmured, "In the eyes of God, vows made before the altar are the only ones that matter. Even if the law says I belong to Daniel, my soul was never his." And so, to the faint echo of hymns and the scent of old incense, they drank from the same silver cup, exchanged rings, and stepped together into the dimly lit sacristy—their makeshift bridal chamber. I watched. Silent. Motionless. No outbursts, no demands for explanation. Just the quiet dialing of a clinic to undo the vasectomy I'd gotten for our future. From fifteen to thirty, I had loved Sarah for fifteen long years. But in all that time, there'd never been room for me. That space had always belonged to Benjamin, my stepbrother. So I let her go. Afterward, I joined a geological research team bound for the isolation of Antarctica—a land cut off from the world, quiet and clean. Before I left, I handed Sarah a divorce agreement…and a final gift to mark the end. I never anticipated that Sarah, who'd always met my devotion with frosty detachment, who'd never once glanced back as I walked away, would look ten years older overnight.

[MATURE CONTENTS, NO RAPE, VIOLENCE, DARK] She didn't realize she was slowly falling deeply for the handsome billionaire who always hid in the shadows, shrouded in darkness and mystery. Despite the blaring alarm in her head screaming 'danger alert,' she just had to trust him. But he wasn’t just a wealthy heartthrob; he was a bad boy with sinister intentions. He became her weapon for revenge, an addiction that transformed her into a villain. (EXTRACT) Eamon's gaze flicked to the name tag on her uniform, which read "Mia." He smirked, clearly aware of the deception. "Heather, do you think you can save your life from me in a hospital?" he teased. "Well, if... if you're a disease," Heather retorted, trying to regain some semblance of control. Eamon chuckled softly, a chilling sound. "Sure I am. A terminal one." "Anyway, Mr. Eamon, sorry for taking things the wrong way this morning. Perhaps you thought I was mocking your blindness by saying you changed my clothes," she said sincerely. "It's alright," Eamon replied, a hint of amusement in his tone. "I saw everything though." Heather blinked in confusion. "Huh? But... you're blind. How can you see everything like you claimed?" Eamon's smile widened, and he leaned in slightly. "Let me tell you a secret then, Ms Heather," he said, removing his dark lenses to reveal a set of emerald green eyes. "You have a fading tattoo 'A & H' on your left waist and a tiny black dotty mole underneath your right breast," Eamon said, his voice low and intimate. Heather: "...." Eamon's eyes bore into hers, a predatory glint in them. "You can't hide from me, Heather. Not in a hospital, not anywhere."