Naruto Smoke Novels & Stories

After discovering that Sienna Lyon had cheated on me, I gave her three chances. The first time, I pulled out the love letter that a shy 18-year-old Sienna had handed to me with trembling hands. When Sienna took the letter, her face was filled with remorse. Then, she deleted Matt Sauter’s contact from her WhatsApp right in front of me. The second time, I pulled up a video of Sienna and me exchanging our wedding vows from my phone’s gallery. Sienna watched in silence for a long time. Then, she ordered the security guard to turn away Matt, who had come to borrow money. She, who had never touched a drop of alcohol, got completely drunk that night. The third time was outside Matt’s hospital room, when I handed Sienna the stomach cancer report. Sienna lit a cigarette. The smoke made me cough uncontrollably. Yet her gaze never left Matt, who was in the room. The answer was already obvious. At that moment, I knew there would be no future for her and me.

The tenth time one of my paintings appeared under my sister Rose's name, I handed Adrian the divorce papers. He raised an eyebrow and tossed the agreement aside without a second glance. "Don't be dramatic. Your hand is ruined -- where would you even go without me?" I said nothing. He smiled, his tone dripping with casual indifference. "You should be grateful. Rose was the one I was supposed to marry. A few paintings is a small price to pay. A little gratitude wouldn't kill you." He blew a ring of cigarette smoke directly into my face. I choked, and the sting brought tears to my eyes. Through the blur, I was transported back to the moment my tendons were severed for his sake -- a pain that had drilled straight to the bone. He thought I had no choice but to take it. What he didn't know was that I'd already accepted an offer from the Royal Academy of Arts in London. Soon, I would be free of him for good.

Amanda Monroe’s life went up in flames three years ago and she can’t rest until she finds the ones responsible. Kevin and Martha Monroe had taken her into their home and treated her like family when she was found abandoned the day she was born. They hadn’t deserved to die that way. Someone would pay. They would all pay. Cole Vasco had always enjoyed his life exactly the way it was. He loved his beer, he loved his whiskey, and he loved his women. He was a bachelor for life, and he liked it that way. And then she walked into the bar. Even over the beer, the smoke, and the odor of too many people packed into a too-small building, he could smell the scent of her, and it called to him in a way that nothing had ever done before. All the while somewhere out there, a group of men in a beat-up old pickup truck drove down the road drinking cheap whiskey and loading their guns and hunting for the little bitch that had been asking too many questions in too many towns along the way.

Vaelora has always felt like something in her life doesn’t add up. The nightmares are getting worse—fire consuming everything she knows, shadows moving in the smoke, a voice calling her name from the flames. She tells herself it’s nothing. Just dreams. Until the night she meets the twin Alphas. Powerful. Controlled. Dangerous in ways that make her pulse flutter . The moment they meet, something shifts. The air thickens. The bond between them snaps tight like it’s been waiting. And whatever has been sleeping inside her begins to stir. The twins rule their pack with strength and precision, but even they weren’t prepared for her. For the way she unsettles them. For the heat that sparks when she’s near. Because Vaelora isn’t just another mate. She’s the center of something bigger. Older. Darker. As tensions rise and secrets surface, the line between fate and curse begins to blur. The fire in her dreams is no longer just a memory—it’s a warning. And when it finally ignites… No one will walk away unburned.

On my birthday, my mafia husband, Alessandro, didn't come home to celebrate with me. He sent a bodyguard with a bouquet of wilting roses and a text message: [Picked these myself from the garden. Happy birthday, love.] A moment later, his right-hand woman, Chloe, posted an Instagram story. It was a fifty-thousand-dollar custom flower box, filled with black roses, their petals embedded with crushed diamonds. The caption read: [My Capo says, "If you love me, you show me devotion that never dies."] I didn't storm the casino to confront him. I just packed my bags and prepared to leave the city. The first day I was gone, word got back to me that Alessandro couldn't care less. He blew a ring of cigar smoke and said, "The world out there is dangerous. She'll be back in a few days, begging me to take her back." The first month I was gone, Alessandro tracked me down with an international call. "I'll buy you a villa in the Heights. Just come back, okay?" But a villa was never what I wanted.

When I'm on my break, I decide to help my neighbor, Yvonne Cook, fix the gas valve, which has been leaking gas. But she instantly lodges a report, saying that I've gone against the rules. She demands compensation for the shock that she's suffered as well. I don't bother defending myself. Instead, I just write a reflection report. After that, my squad leader sentences me to disciplinary confinement. Yvonne wastes no time gloating in the tenants' group chat. "It's time to teach these power-abusers a good lesson, anyway!" Three days later, a fire breaks out in Yvonne's apartment. Thick plumes of dark smoke keep rising from the burning apartment. Yvonne wails as she bangs on my door and pleads with me. "Please crack open the door and put out the fire!" I can only sigh from behind my front door. "I'm under disciplinary suspension right now, so I can't break protocol. You should wait for the fire truck instead."

By our sixth year of marriage, Derrick hadn't touched me in three months. Said he was swamped at work. Always tired. After everything, I still believed him. Then on my birthday, I caught his friend talking in Garmenian—a language Derrick didn't think I understood. "You cut off the side piece yet? You were with her nonstop. Surprised you didn't drop dead. Your wife cool with that?" Derrick let out a smoke ring. "Haven't touched Audrey in months. Sabrina's insane in bed—I'm not over her yet. Sucks she got pregnant. Audrey doesn't want kids, so I gave Sabrina some cash. She'll have the baby overseas." My hands curled into fists. Silent tears streamed down my face. He glanced over, nervous. "What's wrong?" I smiled. "The cake you made is amazing. I'm really touched." It was sweet—but when you understand Garmenian, all you taste is betrayal.

On the day the true heiress and I swapped places, my childhood sweetheart, bound to me by a promise made in youth, gripped my hand before our families and declared, "I chose you, not your title." Anna Pedersen, tears brimming in her eyes, enveloped me in a trembling embrace. "Joanne, we'll always be family. I'd never take what's rightfully yours." Everyone assumed I'd turned misfortune into fortune. Though I lost my status as the Pedersen heiress, I gained a steadfast lover and a selfless sister. But three years after fate corrected itself, photos of Calvin Thomas escorting Anna to a prenatal checkup flooded the internet. When I confronted him, he exhaled a plume of smoke and said coolly, "Anna is my true betrothed. This is just setting things right. Why are you so worked up?" He seized my wrist and dragged our engraved engagement ring across the back of my hand, leaving a bloody gash. "This scar will remind you of the twenty years of life you stole. Your life and I belong to their rightful owner."

A week after getting into a cold war with Alexander Griffin, his friends drag me to a private room. They drink and smoke inside, not caring that I have asthma. My breathing speeds up and it starts to get difficult for me. My hands tremble as I call Alexander and tell him I'm about to die. However, he's with his childhood sweetheart. He doesn't answer my calls. He finally answers when I'm about to pass out, but all he does is berate me. "You're old enough to know not to be so childish, Isabelle. Why would you think of joking around with your life? "Sasha's injured, and I'm tending to her wound—it's my duty as a doctor. Don't tell me you're jealous over that! For the last time, there's nothing between Sasha and me. It's up to you whether you believe it!" Later, I die in that private room. His friends throw my body into the sea to cover up their crimes. One day, Alexander finds my journal. That's when he loses his mind…

***This book contains violence, cursing, sexual content, and talk of suicide, enjoy at your discretion.*** I was walking through an unknown foggy forest when I spotted a field of wildflowers. My feet had a mind of their own as they led me to wander through the flowers. I nonchalantly dragged my hands over the flowers. It was a beautiful and serene sight. I deeply inhaled the sweet scent of the flower and gave a little shudder of bliss. I closed my eyes and just absorbed the moment wanting to remember it. Suddenly the sounds of paws hitting the forest floor overwhelmed me. Then the forest was ignited with flames. Everything glowed vibrant oranges and reds as heavy smoke smothered me from above. I threw myself to the ground desperate for any trace of clean air. As I attempted to crawl out of the flowers a new sound harmonized with the thunder paws, screams and howls for help terrorized me. I clawed at the ground desperate to escape the menacing choir. Fire licked my skin and I screamed for help. Sobs escaped my lips as flaming branches fell on me from above. The smell of burning flesh was the only thing that consumed me as everything went dark.