Blood Ties and Broken Vows
I never wanted to come back here. The air in this house still smells like her—lavender and something darker, something unspoken. Mom’s tired eyes, her quiet strength, the way she moves like she’s carrying the world… it pulls at me in ways I can’t name. And now Henry watches me like he knows every secret I’ve buried. He caught me looking where I shouldn’t. But instead of rage, he smiled. A deal, he said. One that would bind us all. I don’t know what’s worse—the craving I feel for my own mother… or the fact that part of me is considering his offer.The floorboard creaked under my boot, and I froze. Through the cracked bathroom door, steam curled around her silhouette—Mom, humming softly, her hands lifting wet hair from her neck. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be watching. But my chest tightened, heat crawling up my spine like memory made flesh.
A shadow shifted behind me. I turned. Henry stood at the end of the hall, leaning on his cane, eyes glinting in the low light. Not angry. Amused.
"She’s fragile, Zayn," he said, voice smooth as oil. "Needs strong men to care for her. Men who understand her... needs." He stepped closer. "I saw what you did. But don’t worry. I won’t tell. Not if you’re willing to help me keep her safe. Our family deserves to stay whole, don’t you think?"
His smile didn’t reach his eyes. And in that moment, I knew—he wasn’t protecting her. He was claiming her. And he wanted me to join him.
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works: 8
The Pawn's Gambit
I never asked to be part of this game. But the moment Thornton leaned across that desk and whispered Nicole’s name like he owned it, I felt the trap snap shut. He knows about my debts. He knows about the nights I lie awake imagining her voice under my hands. And now he’s offering me a way out—power, money, freedom—if I’m willing to burn everything down. The worst part? I’m already considering it.
Blood Lines
I never thought I’d be begging my mom for money—not like this. The debt’s closing in, David’s goons broke my door last night, and now I’m staring at eviction or worse. Mom lost her job weeks ago. We’re barely eating. Then Uncle Trevor calls, offering shelter at Grandpa Arthur’s mansion. It’s a lifeline. But since we moved in, something’s off. The way Arthur looks at Mom… the brush of his hand when he passes her coffee. I tell myself I’m imagining it. But why can’t I stop looking too?
Blood And Desire
I haven’t seen her in eight years—not since I left this town with nothing but a backpack and a lie. Now I’m back, standing on the porch, hands shaking not from the cold but from the debt breathing down my neck. Mom looks older, fragile, but her eyes still pierce through me like they always did. She doesn’t know about the men chasing me, the blood already on my hands. And she definitely doesn’t know about the heat that coils in my gut when she touches my arm—soft, maternal, wrong. This house was supposed to be safe. But desire has a way of rotting roots.
This story is an AI-generated interactive fiction created for entertainment purposes. It is not affiliated with or based on any existing copyrighted work . Any similarity to real books, movies, or shows is purely coincidental.