What Happens At The End Of All Of Our Demise?

When the apocalypse struck, Ray Morley was brutally murdered and eaten by his wife's family. Only in his dying moments did he learn the cruel truth—his beloved son wasn't his own flesh and blood. He had been nothing more than a pathetic stand-in, a fool used and discarded. But fate gave him another chance. Reborn three months before the end of the world, Ray awakened to find himself in possession of an enormous, otherworldly storage space. This time, he wasted no time—he divorced his venomous wife, won a massive lottery prize, stormed into the stock market, and earned billions. He built fortified shelters and hoarded mountains of supplies. In this new life, he would make his ex-wife and her family pay—every last one of them. No more groveling. No more weakness. This time, Ray would rise above it all.

“Get away from me,” I hissed, gripping the knife tighter. His gaze flicked down to the blade, then back to me, a slow, amused smile curving his lips. “A knife?” he said softly, tilting his head. “Are you perhaps flirting with me?” I gritted my teeth. The asshole was enjoying this — every fucking second of it. ⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘⫘ When Leah got home early from work, she was hoping for one thing — to fix what was left of her relationship with Daniel. Instead, she walked in on him in the arms of another woman. Heartbroken and humiliated, she stormed out, blind with tears… and straight into the path of an oncoming car. But death wasn’t the end for Leah. No! Death was actually the beginning.

Lightning rips the sky open—then, darkness. The world shudders. On the edge. Endings taste like ash. Fate. Desire. Two strangers crash into each other as everything falls apart. Autumn Winters: heartbroken, haunted, hungry for something more. A name that doesn't fit her anymore. She runs from the ruins of her past, colliding with him. Bastion. A man with eyes like midnight storms. Dangerous. Beautiful. Not from here. His secrets coil around him, thick as the night. Chaos explodes. The city burns. Time turns lethal. Bastion offers survival—but at what cost? Autumn's trust is shattered glass, and every word he speaks slices deeper. Can she gamble her heart on a stranger when the world is ending? Or will she lose herself in the fire between them? Love is the last risk left. And it's everything.

I have the ability to see how people will die. The day my divorce is finalized, I'm hit by an electric scooter and sent flying. When I wake up, I see a line of text above the nurse's head. It reads, "27 years old. Breast cancer in eight years." I pick up my phone. The first name in my contacts is my ex-wife, Caroline Meyer. After a moment's hesitation, I open her social media. Her latest post shows her and her new boyfriend vacationing in Marencia, captioned, "Forever starts with you." The location tag says it was posted three hours ago. We only finalized our divorce the day before. Later, I get a voice message from my daughter. "Daddy, Mommy says I can't go to her new house anymore. Her boyfriend doesn't like kids." I clutch my phone and head out to pick her up, only to run into Caroline's father, John Meyer, outside the apartment building. Above his head, the words read, "62 years old. Carbon monoxide poisoning in three months." The moment John sees me, he starts yelling. "What a loser! My daughter should've divorced you years ago! Her new boyfriend is young, handsome, and owns three houses. What do you have?" I glance at the words above his head, then slowly delete the warning text message I'd already typed out. After that, I take my daughter's hand and say, "Come on. I'm taking you out for burgers."

On the fifth year of our hidden marriage, I died on the operating table of a hospital belonging to Allen Jones. Before I died, I called him ninety-nine times, begging for help. The last time, he finally answered. His voice was heavy with impatience. "Enough already. First, it's pregnancy, now it's liver cancer. Can you stop making a scene? I'm exhausted from work. "Mia, when did you learn to lie? Do you know how disgusting you are right now? "I'm warning you—if you keep this up, I'll divorce you. Don't even think about coming back home until you admit you're wrong." But this time, I could never go back. Just before the call ended, I heard him comforting Sadie with a gentleness he had never shown me. "Don't be afraid. The surgery will be over soon, and you'll be fine. Once you're out, I'll take you to see your favorite movie and eat at your favorite restaurant. I promised you, and I'll make it all come true." After he hung up, I called him for the hundredth time. He didn't answer. Later, when Allen saw my body on the operating table, he broke down completely.

The Clan Healer told me that without the vial of Progenitor's Blood, the Blood Blight afflicting me meant I had only seventy-two hours to live. But my husband, Miles, the new Duke of our world, gave the only vial of the precious cure to my adopted sister, Vivienne, the woman I had turned three years ago. "She's in agony from the rejection, Isolde. It's a pain you can't possibly understand." His tone was self-righteous, devoid of any concern for the patch of skin on my collarbone already turning to stone. I nodded, watching as the life-saving, dark red liquid slid down another woman's throat. I accomplished a great deal in the time I had left. As I signed the documents, the lawyer's hand trembled. "Are you certain you want to transfer everything, Your Grace? The territorial rights of a thousand-year-old clan..." I didn't hesitate. "Yes. To Vivienne." My adopted daughter, Lily, the girl I had risked everything to save, who was now forever frozen at the age of eight, cowered in Vivienne's arms, pointing at me and screaming, "Aunt Vivienne is my real mommy! You're the witch who turned us into monsters!" I offered no defense. "Yes, that's right. Be a good girl and listen to your new mother now." The Progenitor's Ring, the symbol of the clan's supreme authority, now rested on Vivienne's hand. "Oh, sister, you're too kind," she sobbed, her sobs a practiced performance. "I'll be sure to protect the family in your stead." I nodded. "You'll run things better than I ever did." I even signed away my control over the Elder Council, a council sustained by my own blood. For the first time in a century, a shadow of complex emotion crossed Miles's face. He stared at me,"Isolde, stop fighting. It's better this way. You need to rest." Yes. On my deathbed, I had finally become the perfect, submissive Isolde they always wanted. An Isolde who was about to turn to dust. The seventy-two-hour countdown had begun. I wondered, when I finally turned to ash,