Novels by Love Lynn

The words lingered in the air, thick and charged with a weight that pressed down on her chest. Lysandra didn’t move. She couldn’t. The figure at the door was no longer a stranger; the pieces of her past that she had fought to keep buried began to shift, pulling at the threads of a truth she wasn’t ready to face. The truth that was now, somehow, connected to everything—the murders, the strange symbols, and the feeling that had been gnawing at her from the inside out.The door closed behind the figure, his presence lingering in the room like a storm that had yet to break. But Lysandra couldn’t focus on him—not yet. Her mind was already spiraling back to her mother, to a past that she had always kept at arm’s length. Her fingers fumbled as she reached for the old recorder sitting on the desk. The crackle of static filled the room, and then, her mother’s voice—her voice, so distant, so haunting—broke through the silence."Lysandra, you have to remember. They're coming."Each word was a da

The weight of the photograph sat heavy in Lysandra’s hands, the mysterious symbol pulsating on the glossy surface. She could still feel Kaelen’s icy gaze upon her, the way his dark eyes seemed to pierce straight through her. There had been something in his expression—a look of recognition, of something deeper that he wasn’t saying. But Lysandra was no stranger to secrets. She’d been hiding her own for years.As she entered her small apartment later that evening, she threw her camera bag onto the kitchen counter, too tired to process anything further. The exhaustion didn’t come from the crime scene she’d photographed or the hours spent sifting through evidence, no—it was something deeper.Lysandra stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror, her hands trembling slightly as she ran them over her face. The sensation was new—an odd heaviness had settled over her body. She’d been feeling it for days now, a wave of exhaustion that no amount of sleep seemed to cure. Her muscles ached, an

Lysandra stared into the dark, her mind racing, trying to make sense of the impossible. The scraping sound hadn’t been a trick of the light, had it? She had to know. But as the minutes stretched into an unbearable quiet, her thoughts began to tangle, spiraling further into doubt and confusion. The room felt colder somehow, the air thick with something unspoken. She tried to steady her breathing, but it was no use. She was alone. Or was she?The sudden gust of wind outside rattled the windowpane, pulling her back to reality. Her fingers still hovered over the phone, but she couldn’t bring herself to call Mallory. Instead, her gaze shifted to the photographs spread out across the table before her, pieces of a puzzle she couldn’t yet solve. Her eyes lingered on the strange symbol, the shadow in the woods, the jagged claw marks—each one pulling her deeper into a web of uncertainty.The heavy rain hit the windows with a rhythmic beat, a constant reminder of the storm raging for hours. Lysa

The cool night air bit at Lysandra Cole’s skin as she stepped out of her car, her camera bag slung over her shoulder. The distant hum of city traffic faded into the eerie stillness of the forest clearing. Police tape fluttered in the breeze, cordoning off the scene like a grim warning. Another murder. Another sleepless night.Her hand trembled slightly as she closed the car door behind her, the familiar weight of her camera bag grounding her. She hated the nights like this—too much quiet, too much isolation. And tonight, the air felt thicker, like something was about to happen, something she couldn't control. But control was something Lysandra had lost years ago, and she had learned to let go.“Cole, over here!” Detective Mallory’s gruff voice broke the silence, beckoning her toward the center of the chaos. Lysandra adjusted her camera strap and approached, weaving between uniformed officers and forensics techs. All of them were focused, but not one was paying her any attention.“Do I