Novels by T.K

The warmth of a quiet morning bathed Rhys and Denera in soft golden light as they sat together on a wide sofa in their tastefully decorated living room. The chaos that had consumed their lives for months felt like a distant memory. Denera rested her head on Rhys’s chest, his arm draped protectively around her. Their hands were intertwined, fingers lightly brushing against each other—a silent vow to never let go. "I still can’t believe we’re here," Denera murmured, her voice carrying a blend of disbelief and gratitude. Rhys tilted her chin up, his piercing gaze meeting hers. "We fought for this, Denera. We’ve been through hell, but we came out stronger. I don’t just love you—I’m in awe of you." She smiled, her cheeks tinged with a soft blush. "And I’m in awe of us. Let’s promise to never let anything or anyone come between us again." Rhys leaned down and kissed her gently. "Not a chance. We’re unbreakable now." The two sat in silence for a moment, basking in the tranquility

The morning sun bathed the city in a golden hue as a soft breeze carried the fragrance of blooming flowers. A week has passed and normalcy has somewhat returned. It was a perfect day, fitting for an event of such grandeur. The wedding of Paul and Rachel-the moment everyone had been waiting for had finally arrived. The venue was a masterpiece: one of the most magnificent halls in the city, renowned for its towering crystal chandeliers and intricately carved marble pillars. From the outside, the building glistened with a mix of modern architectural elegance and timeless charm. Inside, the hall was transformed into a dreamland. A canopy of white roses and orchids draped across the ceiling, interspersed with tiny, twinkling lights that mimicked a starry night. Golden chairs lined the aisle, their backs adorned with silk ribbons and floral arrangements. At the center, a raised platform housed an altar framed by cascading vines and glittering drapery. Guests began to arrive, dress

The dim light of Alex’s makeshift room flickered, casting shadows on the cracked walls and the scattered remnants of his old life. He sat on the edge of a wooden crate, methodically strapping his gear into place. His breaths were steady, but his eyes burned with purpose. Tonight was the night. This was what he had been training for—the moment he would finally free Laurel and eliminate Jason. Alex picked up his blade, its polished steel glinting in the faint light. He ran his fingers over the edge, testing its sharpness. A small scar on his knuckle caught his eye—a reminder of all the battles he’d fought leading up to this. He glanced at the photo of Laurel taped to the wall, her smile a beacon of hope amidst his darkened world. “This is it,” he muttered to himself. “For you, Laurel.”With his weapons secured and resolve hardened, Alex stood, pulling his hood over his head. He left the room without a glance back, the door creaking shut behind him.---The screen went black, the t

The sound of tires crunching over the gravel driveway broke the stillness of the evening as Rhys and Denera pulled up to Gerald’s sprawling mansion. The mansion stood like a fortress, its grand columns illuminated by golden lights that cast long shadows across the well-manicured grounds. As their sleek black car came to a halt, the doors swung open, and the pair stepped out, their presence commanding the attention of everyone nearby.Rhys adjusted the cuffs of his tailored suit, his sharp features set in a calm but deadly expression. Beside him, Denera exuded quiet confidence, her heels clicking against the pavement as she moved. She wore a crimson trench coat, her eyes glinting with a dangerous mix of fury and satisfaction.The heavy front doors of the mansion creaked open, and Gerald emerged with his ever-present smirk plastered on his face. He was flanked by a small squad of armed guards, their weapons gleaming under the lights. Gerald was impeccably dressed, his dark green sui

The Anderson mansion was eerily quiet, the moonlight casting a pale glow over the scene of destruction. Ethan and Paul stood amidst the chaos, their eyes fixed on the lifeless bodies of Jackson and Sebastian sprawled across the bloodied garden. The heavy scent of iron lingered in the air, mixing with the faint rustle of leaves. Ethan’s chest heaved as he struggled to steady his breath, his shirt torn and stained with sweat and blood.Paul glanced at Ethan, concern etched on his face. "You good?" he asked, his voice low but steady.Ethan nodded, though exhaustion weighed on every inch of his body. He pulled out his phone, his hands trembling slightly, and dialed Sandra’s number. The ringing seemed to stretch on forever until her voice finally came through.“Ethan…” Sandra’s voice was weak, barely a whisper. Ethan’s stomach tightened. “Sandra, what happened? Are you okay?” he demanded, his tone laced with panic.There was a pause, and then she spoke again, her words strained. “Sebas

The Walton Mansion stood as a fortress of elegance, bathed in the soft glow of moonlight, its high walls and elaborate architecture a testament to wealth and power. But tonight, the serenity of the estate was shattered. The elite strike team, led by Kiara, moved like shadows through the sprawling grounds, their movements silent yet deliberate.A muffled cry broke the stillness as one of the outer guards was taken down swiftly. Kiara stood in the shadows, her piercing gaze fixed on the mansion ahead. Her dark combat attire blended seamlessly with the night, and a wicked smile played on her lips. **This would be a night the Waltons would never forget.**“Move in,” she ordered, her voice low but commanding. Her team obeyed without hesitation, their precision and ruthlessness evident in every step. Inside the mansion, alarms blared as guards scrambled to defend their employer’s home. Shots were fired, echoing through the grand hallways, but the elite team was unrelenting. They moved w

Victoria’s eyes widened, her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. “Who—who is this?” she stammered, her tone laced with disbelief, her eyes failing to comprehend what was before her.Samuel narrowed his eyes. “Since when do you have drivers?” Silas didn’t answer. Instead, he turned to Victoria. “I’ll leave now. Take care of her. Her health is of paramount concern.” “Wait!” Victoria barked. “You don’t just get to walk away! We’re not done here!” He walked out, paying no attention to the words being barked at him, the chauffeur falling into step beside him. The Lawson family remained frozen in place, their stunned silence a bittersweet victory. Outside, a sleek black car idled at the curb. The chauffeur stepped out behind him immediately, bowing slightly as he opened the door. “Straight to the company, sir?” “Yes.” Silas slid into the car, settling into the plush leather seat. As the car pulled away, he let out a shaky breath, his mind racing, struggling to p

The phone buzzed in Silas’s pocket as he was stepping out of the company’s headquarters. He frowned, pulling it out and glancing at the screen. Unknown number. His thumb hovered over the decline button, but something about the timing made him pause. With a sigh, he answered. “Hello?” “Mr. Silas?” a hurried voice asked on the other end. “This is Mercy Hospital. Your contact information is listed as the emergency number for Mrs. Lilian Lawson. She’s been in a car accident. We need your immediate presence.” Silas froze mid-step. Lilian? His ex-wife? The name felt like a punch to the gut, bringing with it a rush of old memories he’d buried deep. “Is she…” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Is she okay?” “She’s stable but critical,” the nurse explained. “She needs surgery, and we require your consent to proceed.” Silas gripped the phone tightly, his heart hammering in his chest. “I’ll be there,” he said firmly, already moving toward the garage. “Than

The next morning, Silas stood at the grand gates of the sprawling estate. The towering iron structure loomed over him, intricate patterns carved into its surface. Behind it lay the heart of the clan he had never known. “This is it,” Silas muttered, gripping the strap of his bag. The butler, a composed man with a graying beard, approached him. “Young Master, they’re waiting.” Silas swallowed hard. The term still felt foreign, like a coat that didn’t quite fit. But he nodded, stepping through the gates and into a world that felt like it belonged to someone else. The estate was massive—manicured lawns, fountains that sparkled under the sun, and a mansion that seemed to stretch endlessly. Inside, the halls were just as grand, with chandeliers casting soft light on marble floors. They entered a room filled with people. Conversations halted as heads turned. Silas felt their eyes on him—some curious, others cold. A few older women whispered behind their hands, their disapproval

Damien smirked, leaning casually against the counter like this was just another show for his amusement. "He's lying," Damien said as the policeman was about to give Silas the phone to call, loud enough for everyone to hear. "Whatever sob story he’s cooking up, it’s pathetic. Probably stole that card off someone who actually matters." Silas glared but stayed silent. It was obvious his words didn’t seem to matter here. The double doors to the lobby swung open. A man in a sharp suit strode in, exuding authority. His presence alone silenced the murmurs in the room. “What’s going on here?” His baritone voice was calm but carried weight. The kind of voice that didn’t need to yell to command attention. The receptionist perked up, straightening her posture. “Mr. Whitman! Thank goodness you’re here.” “Explain,” Whitman said, his eyes scanning the scene. The receptionist gestured at Silas, her tone laced with disdain. “This man tried to book a room using a stolen card. We called

The lobby buzzed with tension as the flashing red and blue lights from outside pierced through the glass doors, casting eerie reflections on the polished marble floor. Two police officers entered, their boots clicking sharply against the tiles. Their stern expressions silenced the murmurs of the crowd gathered near the reception desk. Silas stood between the guards, his shoulders tense but his head held high. His sharp jawline was set in defiance, but a flicker of unease crossed his eyes. He couldn’t let them take him—not like this. “That’s him,” the receptionist said, pointing an accusatory finger. Her voice was tinged with disdain. “He tried using a stolen card. Likely a scammer.” Damien leaned casually against the counter, arms crossed, his posture radiating smug satisfaction. A triumphant grin stretched across his face, and he shot Silas a look that said, This is what you deserve.Beside Damien, the brunette he cameWith chuckled softly, her gaze filled with amusement. Sh

Silas stopped a few feet from him, his eyes cold. “You’ve got a big mouth for someone so small. A real man shouldn’t be seen in a compromising position with another woman.” Damien straightened, his smirk fading. “Careful, Silas. You’re in no position to talk to me like that. Do what I said you should do and I’ll save you from completely disgracing yourself.” Silas’s voice dropped. “You think I’ll kneel for you? I’d rather drink from a basket than beg for anything you offer.” Damien’s lips twitched, a mix of anger and amusement flashing across his face. “Is that so?” Silas turned to leave, his steps deliberate and slow, as if daring someone to stop him. “Wait!” the receptionist barked. Silas froze and turned back to the receptionist. “To hell with you all, you’re not worth any penny from me.”“Guards!” she called, her voice sharp. Two uniformed men emerged from the nearby hallway, their footsteps heavy against the polished floor. Silas turned, confusion etched on his face