Review of The Missing Corpse By Yasin Kakande.(#Contests-Enter To Win An Amazon Gift Card.)

THE MISSING CORPSE

by Yasin Kakande

January 12 - February 6, 2026 Virtual Book Tour

 

Synopsis:

THE GENERAL'S PROJECT

The president is dead. His son’s pretending he’s not. And the corpse? Well, that’s missing.

When the CIA sniffs out whispers that an African general—who also happens to be the president’s darling son—may have murdered dear old dad and stashed the body like last week’s leftovers, they send in their best bloodhound: Agent Shawn Wayles. He’s good at two things—digging up dirt and getting shot at in places the U.S. swears it’s not involved.

This time, Shawn’s not alone. He’s paired with an LGBTQ couple who have more secrets than the Vatican and fewer moral brakes.

Their mission? Retrieve the dead president’s body from the general’s paranoid, trigger-happy security team.

Because in this twisted power struggle, it’s not the living who rule—it’s the guy in the coffin. And whoever has the corpse... controls the country.

Praise for The Missing Corpse:

"A work of fiction told with the force of truth."
~ The Niche

"Right off the bat, I could tell this was going to be a dark read. There is a real sense of menace and threat from the get go... Thoroughly enjoyed this and will definitely be up for reading any future books."
~ Donna Morfett, Goodreads Review

"I thought the plot was a fantastic idea and brilliantly written."
~ Claire Ball, Goodreads Review

Book Details:

Genre: Crime Thriller
Published by: Black Writers Ink LLC
Publication Date: September 11, 2025
Number of Pages: 379
ISBN: 979-8990984448
Series: The General's Project, Book 2
Book Links: Amazon | Kindle | Barnes & Noble | BookShop.org | Goodreads | BookBub | Audible 

MY THOUGHTS: 

The book's title immediately grabbed my attention—I knew I had to read it. “The Missing Corpse” is a crime thriller that captivated me from the very first page. Each chapter is told from a different character’s perspective, which adds to the plot. The protagonist, Shawn, is a skilled CIA agent, adept at uncovering intel on suspects and finding himself in life-threatening situations. The novel is fast-paced, well-written, and kept me thoroughly engaged. Although this is the second book in the series, it stands on its own as a standalone read. The plot revolves around the supposed murder of the President of Uganda by his son, “The General,” who attempts to hide the body, prompting Shawn to begin a mission to locate the deceased President. Joanne, a major player in the story, stood out to me—she’s sassy, funny, and, together with her partner Helen, helps Shawn find the corpse. The supporting cast improves the plot, and I enthusiastically give the book 5 out of 5 stars. I’m ready to see what “The General” is up to in the third installment of the series.

Read an excerpt:

 

The General knew—like a rotting tooth you can’t stop tonguing—just how hard his old man had worked to hammer him into something resembling a real man, using boot camps, backdoor deals, and enough disappointment to fill a graveyard.

Before the president found Twitter—sorry, X—for him, he mostly just found disappointment. And not the subtle, quiet kind. No, this was loud, public, teeth-grinding failure. The kind that makes a father grip his whiskey glass hard enough to shatter it. The boy was dull. A wet match in a thunderstorm. The people ignored him like a pothole they’d grown used to swerving around.

The president, who fancied himself a blend of warlord and wise grandfather, had done all the right things—by dictator standards. He’d oiled the machinery, laid the bricks. He'd shipped the lad off to Sandhurst, the British womb for future coup-makers and ceremonial dictators. But the academy spat him out like a bad oyster after just one year. Reason? "Intellectual capacity insufficient for command responsibilities." That's British for “the boy was dumb as soup.”

Panic set in. The president, no stranger to coups or cover-ups, scrambled for another boot camp that would accept his undercooked progeny. And God bless Africa—it never disappoints. Egypt, under old mummy Hosni Mubarak, opened its arms. The president’s warning was clear as day and sharp as a bayonet: “If you fail here, don’t ever mention my name again.” The boy emerged months later with a piece of paper that said he could command a battalion. No one bothered to ask if it was his own handwriting.

Still not satisfied, Daddy rang his buddies in Langley. Mr. Taylor—CIA spook with a neck like a tree stump—hooked him up with a slot at Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. That’s where the U.S. trained its foreign military friends—the ones that smiled for cameras by day and broke skulls by night. The General graduated. Barely. His grades so low they had to be excavated.

Back home, the president, desperate to turn the boy into something—anything—decided to mold him into a public figure. He hired speech coaches, media whisperers, ex-BBC anchors, even a former Miss Uganda who once read the weather on WBS Television. Still, every time the General opened his mouth in public, it was a horror show. His hands trembled like a leaf in a blender. He couldn’t pronounce words. Once, he called “sovereignty” soup-ver-nanny and the room went so silent you could hear careers dying.

But then came the miracle: Twitter. Well, X. Rebranded like a shady funeral home. The president's advisors—witchdoctors in suits—pitched a bold idea: give the boy a Twitter account. Hire a comedian ghostwriter. Make him sound dangerous. Sexy. Unhinged. Like Idi Amin with a smartphone.

Enter the ghostwriter—a washed-up tabloid journalist who once faked an alien sighting in Karamoja and got sued by a Catholic bishop. The guy was perfect. He knew how to stir the pot with one tweet and have the country boiling by lunch.

The General gave him ideas—half-mumbled thoughts between sips of imported whiskey—and the ghostwriter turned them into gold. Tweets like: Kenya has two weeks left. Consider this your final warning. #WeMarchAtDawn

The country gasped. The president “fired” the General. He even sent an apology to Kenya. A public scandal. Oh no, Daddy can’t control his baby boy! The media gobbled it up like pigs at a buffet.

But behind the curtain, the ghostwriter kept churning out wild, headline-drenched tweets. The General was now lusting after Beyoncé and Ayra Starr like a horny war god in fatigues. He made bizarre threats about airstrikes on Tanzanian Bongo Flava concerts. People were horrified. People were entertained.

***

Excerpt from chapter 24 of The Missing Corpse by Yasin Kakande. Copyright 2025 by Yasin Kakande. Reproduced with permission from Yasin Kakande. All rights reserved.

Author Bio:

Yasin Kakande is an international journalist, TED Global Fellow, and author of several critically praised non-fiction books, including "Why We Are Coming" and "Slave States," which offer fresh perspectives on immigration and geopolitics. His journalism career includes contributions to outlets such as The New York Times, Thomson Reuters, Al Jazeera, The National, and The Boston Globe. Yasin holds an MFA in Creative Writing from Emerson College and resides outside Boston.

Catch Up With Yasin Kakande:

Amazon Author Profile
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BookBub - @yasikak
Instagram - @yasikak
Threads - @yasikak
X - @yasikak
Facebook - @yasikak

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Book Blitz Of The Rewrite by Beth Rinyu.(#Contests- Win An Amazon Gift Card.)

The Rewrite
Beth Rinyu
Publication date: January 29th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

How long would you hold a grudge?

If you’re Eloise Hendrickson, the answer is twenty-five years. After being humiliated by her overseas pen pal in seventh grade, Eloise, now a successful writer, has never quite let go of that one mortifying moment. One bad breakup, a late night of drunken internet sleuthing, and a half-baked excuse to bust through writer’s block send her straight into the path of the boy she’s hated her whole life.

Her plan? Turn him into the villain of her next novel.
The plot twist? He’s not the jerk she remembers.

Instead, he’s a charming chocolatier, a devoted family man, and awkwardly, a huge fan of her books. But as Eloise reconnects with the past, it’s not him who captures her attention, it’s someone else entirely. Someone unexpected. He’s rude, infuriating, and gets under her skin like no one else. He’s the exact opposite of the heroes she creates and the men she dates.

With new friends, a fresh perspective, and possibly the beginnings of something romantic—Eloise must decide if she’s finally ready to let go of the perfection she’s always demanded from herself as well as everyone around her, and embrace the unpredictable, wonderfully flawed life waiting for her. Maybe her next bestseller won’t be about righting the past after all. Maybe it will be about rewriting the future instead.

Warning: This book may contain chocolate and possibly a happily ever after.

Goodreads / Amazon

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EXCERPT:

“Okay, so if booty calls are off the table. What about a friendship? Seeing he’s such a decent guy? You’re a lonely woman in a strange country. He’s an available strapping man. Maybe it would be nice to have someone just to hang out with. I mean… not someone like you and me someone. Let’s face it, I’m irreplaceable.”

“No,” I cut in. “Like I said, he’s nice. For someone else. Whether it’s sex or friendship, I’m not interested. And for the record, I’m not lonely.”

“Yes, yes, how could I forget, your social circle now includes preteens and senior citizens.”

“I happen to like my new friends, both young and old.”

“Ella, honey.” Charlie gave me that look that was equal parts exasperated and concerned. “All I’m saying is, maybe this is your moment to let your hair down a little. You’re always so tightly wound, and this breakup didn’t exactly loosen the screws. Maybe it’s time to expand your horizons. Try something different. Someone different. Maybe this guy is the kind of non-Kent energy you need.”

“Okay, when did you get a PHD in Psychology?” I snapped.

“Reading radar maps and reading the human psyche are kind of the same thing. Both are temperamental and can change in a heartbeat,” he teased.

“Charlie, I love and appreciate you, but stick to doing the weather. You’re much better at that!”

“One last question, and then I promise I’ll ixnay the subject.” “What?” I didn’t even try to hide my annoyance.

“Do you call him Mr. Moreau or Grace’s daddy?”

“Goodbye, Charlie!” I blew him a kiss and disconnected our call.

Author Bio:

I've always had a passion for Creative Writing. There's something special about being able to travel to a different place or become a different person with just the stroke of a pen—or in today's world, a tap of the keyboard. Maybe it all started with the soap opera-level drama I used to script for my Barbie dolls. Plot twists, emotional arcs, surprise twins... it was basically a writer’s room before I even knew what one was. Whatever the spark, storytelling quickly became my favorite creative outlet. I craft stories that keep me on my toes and constantly push me beyond my comfort zone. Deep characters you either root for or love to hate are the ones I’m most drawn to.

Exploring new places helps me uncover fresh and exciting settings for my books, but there’s nothing quite like a quiet walk in the woods or sitting by the ocean close to home. Turns out, plot twists and inspiration arrive just as easily with a sea breeze—or a few curious squirrels.

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GIVEAWAY!

The Rewrite Blitz

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Book Blitz of Roped Into Paradise By Shanna Hatfield.(#Contests- Enter To Win An Amazon Gift Card.)

Roped Into Paradise: A Sweet Cruise Rom-Com
Shanna Hatfield
Publication date: January 29th 2026
Genres: Adult, Comedy, Contemporary, Romance

A cowboy, a cruise, and a meddling grandma—what could go wrong?
JJ McKade expected to spend two weeks with his grandmother at her condo in sunny Florida, celebrating her birthday. Instead, he got shanghaied by his mischievous grandma on a Caribbean cruise—complete with hot pink luggage, a gaggle of giggling octogenarians, and a humiliating childhood nickname haunting his every move.

Between meddling matchmakers, unexpected friendships, and the endless chaos of cruise life, JJ can’t help being drawn to Kinsley Kline, the ship’s enchanting horticulturist. There’s just one catch: crew fraternizing with passengers is strictly forbidden.

With only a few months left in her contract aboard The Affinity, Kinsley can’t let anything rock her boat or derail her plans. Then the arrival of a hunky cowboy on the ship makes her question if some rules are meant to be broken, and a little boat rocking is a good thing.

From sun-drenched beaches to moonlit strolls, JJ and Kinsley must decide if an onboard romance can last on land, and if love is worth risking their hearts.

Packed with laughter, longing, and a grandmother who refuses to play by the rules, Roped Into Paradise is a heartwarming romantic comedy about family, hope, and finding love where you least expect it. Perfect for fans of witty banter, slow-burn romance, and cruise ship escapades that sweep you off your feet.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

They moved off the elevator and had only taken a step when Trudy’s air-raid siren voice alerted him to the presence of his grandmother’s friends.

The gazes of everyone in the vicinity swiveled to them as Trudy and Marsha gave Grams big hugs, then all four women turned to JJ. The scrutiny in their gazes was enough to unsettle him, but from the corner of his eye, he saw something move and shifted just slightly to see Kinsley pressing moss inside a planter filled with colorful blooming flowers.

“Yoohoo! Girls! If you’re looking for a great guy to date, this one is single!” Trudy shouted, then she and Marsha made exaggerated pointing motions at JJ.

The heat searing from his neck to the top of his head made him momentarily question if he might implode. The mortification he felt was indescribable, particularly with Kinsley staring at him wide-eyed, as though she wasn’t sure what to make of Trudy’s declaration. He certainly had no idea what to do with the big-mouthed old woman.

JJ closed his eyes and wished Neptune would rise from the sea, reach into the ship, and drag him under. Where was a good, solid iceberg when you needed it for a distraction?

At the very least, maybe they’d sail straight into the Bermuda Triangle. After all, this doomed adventure had felt like a trip through a nightmarish alternate universe from the moment his grandmother had announced they were taking it. Right now, with dozens of passengers laughing at him and a few women passing him scribbled notes with their room numbers, he forgot about the fun he’d had earlier in the day.

It was hard to focus on anything when he wanted to simply disappear.

JJ had never enjoyed being the center of attention. Sure, he’d played sports in high school and even participated in rodeo a few years after he graduated, but the attention wasn’t solely on him, like he’d stepped into the glaring center of a spotlight.

Grams and Shirley were madly whispering something to Trudy and Marsha, but before he could kick his brain back in gear enough to hear what they said, a hand settled on his shoulder. He looked over to see Ted, who nodded once to him. Wynn offered a commiserating look of encouragement.

Afraid to glance at Kinsley but needing to know if she had joined those laughing at him, he turned his head, and their gazes connected. She smiled and winked at him, and that one little gesture made him feel better than anything anyone else could have offered.

“Let’s get these cackling hens to the restaurant before they humiliate every male on the ship,” Ted said quietly, moving forward to stake his claim beside Grams.

Author Bio:

USA Today Bestselling Author Shanna Hatfield writes sweet romances rich with relatable characters, small town settings that feel like home, humor, and hope.

Her historical westerns have been described as “reminiscent of the era captured by Bonanza and The Virginian” while her contemporary works have been called “laugh-out-loud funny, and a little heart-pumping sexy without being explicit in any way.”

When this farm girl isn’t writing or indulging in rich, decadent chocolate, Shanna hangs out with her husband, lovingly known as Captain Cavedweller. She also experiments with recipes, snaps photos of her adorable nephew, and caters to the whims of a cranky cat named Drooley.

To learn more about Shanna or the books she writes, visit her website http://shannahatfield.com or find out more about her here: linktr.ee/ShannaHatfield

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GIVEAWAY!

Roped Into Paradise Blitz

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Book Blitz of Lifestyle Trust Fall by Kasey Fallon. (#Contests-Win An Ebook Copy.)

Lifestyle: Trust Fall
Kasey Fallon
Publication date: January 27th 2026
Genres: Adult, Contemporary, Romance

She needs a Dom.

A stalker wants to own her.

And once you’re in it, the LifeStyle never lets go.

On the outskirts of Philadelphia, the LifeStyle Club caters to those with certain… tastes.

Grayson is a born Dominant – and owning LifeS is exactly where he belongs. With a new underground fight arena ready to launch, he’s missing only one thing: a fighter strong enough to survive it.

Lexi has survived worse.

Haunted by PTSD, Lexi trusts no one but herself. She runs her own gym, makes her own rules, and refuses to submit – to anyone. But beneath her iron control lies a perilous secret. One that threatens to consume her… unless she can find a Dom.

When Grayson and Lexi collide, desire isn’t the only thing at stake.

Someone is watching.
Someone wants Lexi.
And in the LifeStyle, submission can be salvation – or a deadly mistake.

Welcome to the LifeStyle.

Goodreads / Amazon

—

EXCERPT:

LEXI

She couldn’t seem to find the clasp, and her breath was coming in short bursts. Her shirt felt too tight, her scalp was tingling, and in some part of her brain she was dimly aware that she was having a panic attack.

The gentle ding of the door opening didn’t register with her until a tall shadow fell across her. Attempting to breathe in a four-count, Lexi glanced up for less than a heartbeat at the baritone hello. She grunted in return and went back to hyperventilating, wishing they would walk away.

GRAYSON

For a moment, he was confused why she was hunched over on the bench. She was struggling with something… a necklace? Her breathing was coming in quick, uneven pants, and her gaze went straight through him.

“Good morning,” he tried casually.

He still had in mind that perhaps something he’d done or said the other day had been too much and she’d run. He had to be a little more tame, he thought. Casually being stalked, even for just one morning, was bound to put anyone on edge. At least until she was one hundred percent in, and he figured out what to do with her. But his good morning went unanswered.

Lexi made a garbled sound in the back of her throat, and he wondered if she was the opposite of a morning person. Or maybe-

“Do you need help?”

Her only response was those quick panting breaths. Her movements got more frantic, and she went to stand. Grayson placed a hand as gently as he could on her shoulder.

“Alexis. What’s wrong?”

She knocked his hand away and took two running steps to get past him. Panic. Without thinking it through, he caught up to her in one step. Spinning her around by her shoulder, he ignored the elbow that skimmed his diaphragm as she flailed behind her.

Using his forward momentum, he walked her backward until her back was against the wall. The white concrete must have been cool on her back, but her breath continued in short pants and a red flush was spreading across her chest and up into her face. She brought her hands up in fists and he thought for a heartbeat he might have to hold them down or he’d get hit. But her fingers just curled themselves into the edges of his t-shirt, grabbing on to something unidentifiable inside him. He ignored it.

She was looking at him, but she wasn’t seeing him. Her dark eyes were wide and wouldn’t focus, looking everywhere but into his. Both of his hands pushed her back against the wall by her ribcage.

“Alexis. Breathe.”

He used a deeper voice, mindful of startling her. Of course, he mused, she couldn’t get much more worked up than she already was. Maybe there was no harm in using his Dom voice. Much deeper than his speaking voice and sharp, he tried to reserve it for situations that needed it. This qualified.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” he commanded.

Lexi jumped, but still didn’t look him in the eye. Her hands made their way to her throat, scratching at where her necklace lay. Grayson winced at the scratches. His voice whipped out.

“Stop.”

She stopped clawing at her own neck, but her breathing was still too fast.

“Breathe.”

It wasn’t working. He leaned forward, putting more of his weight against his arms. He slid his left forearm up between her breasts against her sternum, until his hand was splayed at the base of her throat, but he made sure to not actually touch her neck. She was having enough trouble breathing as it was.

One of her knees came up, and he pushed her thigh back with his knee against the wall, but it seemed like she didn’t even notice. Like the knee had been a reflex. He reached his right hand up to cup the side of her face and forced her face up to his.

“Look at me.”

It got through. Her breath was still heaving with shallow gasps, but she was looking straight up at him with wide eyes.

“Tell me what’s wrong.”

Lexi shuddered slightly.

“I can’t breathe. It’s too tight.”

His eyes flicked down to the thin silver chain at her neck. It was actually a very long chain, and held only a thin butterfly at the end. His lack of response seemed to agitate her, and she clawed at her neck again, this time not even hitting the chain. He raised his left hand a couple of inches to block her own hands.

“Stop moving.”

Her eyes were watery, but she stopped moving. For someone who might not be an actual submissive, she was certainly… responsive.

“I don’t want to die again.”

Her voice came out in a strangled whisper. Her eyes pleaded up at him. Shocked, Grayson could only stare at her for a moment.

“Breathe. I won’t hurt you. Stop moving.”

His voice had gotten slower with the commands, and she seemed mesmerized by his unblinking stare. She finally stopped pushing against his hands and relaxed against the wall, taking rapid, shallow breaths.

With his left forearm holding her still up against her sternum, he used his left hand to grab at the chain’s little clasp. He didn’t want to look away from her. It was working; he was completely in charge. She was breathing more steadily, and he didn’t want to break their eye contact.

Grayson finally got it to release, although he thought some part of it might have snapped. He slid it off her neck and held it loosely in his hand, but he didn’t move otherwise. He didn’t think she’d noticed that the necklace was gone.

“It’s gone. Breathe.”

Lexi inhaled deeply, and he was finding it difficult to back away. She had responded so perfectly; exactly as he’d wanted her to. Maybe she wasn’t a Domme? Could she really be submissive under all this fight? His body took that moment to recognize that he had her securely pinned against a wall, and she was staring up at him, waiting. He could see the exact moment when she fought it off as her eyes snapped with clarity. Grayson heard footsteps coming at them fast as she blinked rapidly.

“Lexi! What the fuck? Who the fuck is this? Are you okay?” Eddie jogged up, his short dreads bouncing.

Author Bio:

Kasey grew up on the East Coast, from Maine to North Carolina. She loves two things above all in nature: the water, and the forest. While she might not love her nightmares, they do inspire many of her works. A recipient of the Editor's Choice Award from the International Library of Poetry, she writes across several genres. She and her dog can be found investigating new hiking trails, or curled up on the couch as he pushes her computer off her lap to make room for himself.

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Lifestyle: Trust Fall Blitz

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Book Blitz of The Breaking Of Time By J.J. Hebert.(#Contests-Win An Amazon Gift Card.)

The Breaking of Time
J.J. Hebert
(Chronicles of the Arvynth, #1)
Publication date: November 25th 2025
Genres: Adult, Urban Fantasy

USA Today bestselling author J. J. Hebert’s brand-new urban fantasy series Chronicles of the Arvynth begins with The Breaking of Time, a novel about a devoted father whose desperate act to save his son fractures reality itself, awakening ancient magic and drawing him back into the path of an immortal order he once betrayed, where love, time, and silence collide in a race against eternity.

ONE FATHER’S DESPERATE CHOICE FRACTURES TIME AND REALITY ITSELF.

To everyone around him, Daniel Ward is a mild-mannered accountant, devoted husband and father in a quiet New England suburb. But when his ten-year-old son chases a runaway soccer ball into the street, straight into the path of a speeding truck, Daniel does the impossible. He freezes time.

That single act of defiance exposes the secret he’s buried for decades. His magic awakens the ancient order he once betrayed, the Arvynth, a brotherhood of immortal sorcerers devoted to stillness and death, determined to silence the world.

As his carefully constructed life unravels, Daniel must protect his family while evading the brotherhood that hunts him. Every second he steals from time feeds the void that seeks to consume it, threatening not only the people he loves but reality itself.

Forced to choose between sacrifice and survival, Daniel discovers the truth: sometimes the loudest act of love is defiance.

The Breaking of Time is a race against eternity, a supernatural thriller that fuses urban fantasy and family drama in a story about the noise of life, the cost of power, and one father’s desperate fight to keep the world from falling silent.

Goodreads / Amazon / Barnes & Noble

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CHAPTER 1:

I’ve spent years pretending to be someone I’m not.

The thought surfaces every morning when I shave, watching the face in the mirror—a face that should be ancient, centuries-old, but instead shows only the faint creases of a man in his early forties. A single gray hair at my temple that Elena keeps threatening to pluck. The kind of weathering that comes from the lost sleep of parenthood and mortgage payments, not from outliving empires.

To everyone else, I’m Daniel Ward—husband, father, the sort of man who mows the lawn on Saturdays and forgets garbage day at least twice a month. My neighbors wave when I’m pulling out the recycling bins, their smiles automatic and easy. Mrs. Dante from next door brings over her extra zucchini in late summer, always too much, always apologizing for the abundance. My coworkers at the accounting firm think I’m polite but quiet, the guy who keeps his head down and never complains about the coffee. My wife calls me dependable, though sometimes I catch a question in her eyes, a flicker of something she can’t quite name.

They all believe they know me.

They don’t.

The other man—the one buried under the flannel shirts and PTA meetings—still lurks somewhere beneath the surface. He’s the one who used to speak to the unseen currents of the world, who could twist wind and time if he chose, who once stood in a circle of elders and made the sky itself hold its breath. But I buried him twenty years ago, the day I first saw Elena across a crowded bookstore, her laugh carrying over the ambient music like a bell I didn’t know I’d been waiting to hear. I traded his power for peace, his truth for love, his ancient purpose for the warm weight of a child falling asleep on my chest. I told myself I could be normal, that five hundred and forty-three years of magic could be folded up and tucked away like old photographs in a drawer.

I even started to believe it.

Today was supposed to be an ordinary day. Another quiet Saturday, nothing more. But when does anything ever go as planned?

It was one of those deceptive autumn afternoons where New England shows off—sun bright and warm on the skin, gilding everything gold. The kind of day that makes you forget winter is coming. Trees along Brookfield Lane shed their red and gold. They carpeted the sidewalks in layers of crimson and amber, crunching underfoot like breaking glass. The whole world felt fragile, caught between seasons, holding its breath before the fall.

I stood at the end of our driveway, sipping coffee that had long gone lukewarm. The mug—a Father’s Day gift from three years ago with “World’s Coolest Dad” printed in fading letters—hung heavy in my hand, forgotten. I was watching the Hendersons ’cat stalk something invisible through their garden, its tail twitching with predatory focus, when Eli kicked his soccer ball a little too hard.

The sound was sharp—that hollow thwack of synthetic leather against a ten-year-old’s foot, released with more enthusiasm than aim. The ball bounced once, twice, then caught the curb at an angle and rolled into the street, picking up speed as it curved toward the stop sign at the corner.

Eli chased it before I could even form the word wait.

He wore his blue hoodie—the one with the frayed cuffs he refused to let Elena fix, the white stripes on the sleeves already graying from too many washes, and one drawstring longer than the other because he’d chewed on it during homework the night before. His sneakers were grass-stained, laces trailing, his gangly ten-year-old body a blur of elbows and knees as he ran with a reckless abandon only children possess. The kind of innocence that comes from not yet understanding that the world has teeth.

The ball slipped into the road, rolling lazily toward the middle of the lane. Eli followed without looking, without thinking, his whole world narrowed to that sphere of black and white pentagons.

And then I heard it.

An approaching car. Not the gentle whisper of someone cruising through the neighborhood, but the aggressive growl of speed—too much speed for a residential street. A truck came around the bend far too fast. The driver probably wasn’t paying attention, likely glancing at his phone or reaching for something on the passenger seat, thinking about anything but the quiet street where children played.

I felt my stomach drop, that vertiginous lurch that comes not from falling but from watching someone you love step off the edge.

The coffee mug slipped from my fingers, hitting the driveway with a dull crack. Coffee spread across the concrete in a dark stain that looked too much like blood.

“Eli!” I shouted. “Look out!”

He didn’t hear. The wind was wrong, carrying sound away from him, and he was bent over the ball now, just a few feet from the centerline, small hands reaching down to scoop it up. His hood had fallen back, revealing the stubborn cowlick at his crown that Elena had tried to smooth down this morning—the same stubborn swirl of hair I’d seen on Jonas five hundred years ago.

The driver saw him at the last minute—I could see the panic flash across his face through the windshield, his mouth opening in what might have been a shout or a curse. He tried to brake—the nose of the truck dipped as he slammed his foot down—but there wasn’t enough distance, not enough time.

The laws of physics are beautiful and merciless. Mass times velocity. Momentum conserved. A two-ton truck traveling at forty miles per hour needs approximately ninety feet to stop.

My son was thirty feet away.

The math was simple. The outcome inevitable.

Everything inside me fractured.

The years I’d spent pretending to be ordinary—gone, shattered like ice on pavement. The quiet life, the safe life, the carefully constructed fiction of Daniel Ward, the accountant—gone. Twenty years of restraint, of biting my tongue when the old words tried to surface, of letting the magic sleep dormant in my bones—all of it evaporated in the space between heartbeats.

My son was about to die, and the man I’d been pretending to be had no way to stop it.

The other man—the buried one—could.

It began as a vibration in my chest, not painful but insistent, like thunder humming before a storm breaks or the first tremor before an earthquake tears the world open. The sensation spread through my ribcage, resonating in the hollow spaces between bone, traveling down into my gut. My hands began to tingle, then burn, the old pathways of power waking, remembering their purpose.

The world thinned around me, like reality itself was just a membrane stretched too tight, waiting for permission to stop turning.

My vision sharpened with supernatural clarity—I could see each particle of dust hanging in the light, suspended like tiny stars. I could see the individual vibrations in the air, the way sound moves in waves, the molecular dance of oxygen and nitrogen. I could see the truck’s trajectory mapped out in lines of probability, see the exact angle at which metal would meet flesh, see the moment my son would stop being my son and become a memory, a ghost, another name added to the long list of those I’d failed to save.

The spell came unbidden to my lips, rising from a place deeper than thought, older than intention.

The syllables were hot and metallic on my tongue, tasting of copper and electricity, of blood and starlight. They weren’t English—weren’t any language spoken in many, many years.

They were Arvynth.

The old words.

The ones I’d sworn I’d never speak again.

“Fractura Tempora.”

The sound tore through the air like a blade through fabric, like lightning splitting the sky, like the world itself being unzipped at the seams.

And reality obeyed.

Author Bio:

J. J. Hebert is the #1 Amazon, USA Today, and Wall Street Journal bestselling author of eight books, including his acclaimed debut Unconventional and The Backwards K, which, according to Newsweek, is currently in development for film adaptation. His latest #1 bestsellers, both published in 2025, are The Breaking of Time: Chronicles of the Arvynth and The Hands-On Author: Taking Control of Your Book Marketing Journey. A lifelong New England resident, Hebert frequently weaves the region’s landscapes and atmosphere into his storytelling. He is also the award-winning CEO and Founder of MindStir Media, a leading hybrid book publisher. Join his community of over 2 million followers across Instagram, TikTok, Facebook, and X (formerly Twitter) @authorjjhebert.

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