What Happens At The Ending Of Dead Girls Can'T Tell Secrets?

After fifteen years away, I was finally brought back to the DeLuca family. I thought I was returning to my real home. Instead, I walked into a house where the adopted daughter wanted me dead, my father treated me like a burden, and my brothers would rather watch me bleed than make her cry. On my first day back, she set dogs on me. That night, I was dragged to the top of the observatory and forced to apologize to her. When I fell from the tower covered in blood, they still called me a liar. Because in the DeLuca family, I may have been the real daughter by blood— but she was the daughter they loved. She thought she could bully me, poison me, and freeze me to death without consequence. She was wrong. Because the night I nearly died, my mother finally chose me—and turned a gun on the whole DeLuca family.

My twin sister died in my arms with his name on her lips. Five years later, I wear red lipstick and heels to seduce the man who murdered her. ~ Five years ago, Anastasia’s world ended in gunfire and ash. Her entire family was slaughtered on her eighteenth birthday, by the man her twin sister loved. Left for dead, Anastasia was saved by a stranger. Broken, enraged, and alone, she was taken in by a woman who taught her how to disappear… and how to kill. Now, she’s Skye, trained to seduce, infiltrate, and destroy. Her mission is simple: get close to Nikolaus Volkov, close enough to break him. But killing him isn’t enough. She wants to make him suffer, to crave her, to need her. And when he’s completely at her mercy… she’ll rip him apart the way he tore her world to pieces. A kiss meant to disarm ignites something deadly, Desire. Obsession. Confusion. Nikolaus is not the cold-blooded monster she expected. He’s worse. And yet, with every stolen glance and kiss, Skye begins to slip. Revenge was the plan. Desire was never part of it. Now, she’s playing a game she might not win. Under Her Skirt: The Last Kiss is a dark, twisted mafia romance of seduction, revenge, and ruin, where every kiss could be a betrayal… and every heartbeat could be your last.

I died on the day I was supposed to marry Ryan Wolfe. When I didn’t show up on time, he angrily married his childhood sweetheart, Lorelei Floyd, instead, and publicly announced, “Alexis Harding cheated before our wedding and called it off herself!” The rumors crushed my mother, and she died from a heart attack right then and there. But Ryan seemed to have forgotten that he, in a fit of rage to defend Lorelei, slashed my arm and locked me in a basement for ten whole days. I begged him and pleaded for mercy, but all I got was his cold reply. “You’ll stay here for a while, so you can fully understand the pain you caused Lorelei. And maybe, just maybe, it’ll rid you of your wicked thoughts.” When he found my corpse, ravaged by maggots, he lost his mind.

There was a girl that was ready to face her death without having any regrets by shutting everyone down. She had not experienced falling in love with a person and taking risks. However, when she decided to go to college, she met a guy. And without any notice, her life was slowly changing. Is she finally willing to take the risk even if she knew their end game?

The only reckless thing I ever did in my last life was fall in love with Luca Moretti. For five years, I called him my brother by day and lay in his arms by night. Then half a month ago, outside the Moretti Club, I heard him talking to his men. "Luca, what are you going to do about the little girl Grace brought in? Weren't you supposed to play with her and dump her? How has this gone on for five years?" "You got with her to get back at your stepmother, right? Sophia dumped you back then, so you turned around and went after Grace's precious daughter. Don't tell me you actually fell for her." Then Luca's cold, cruel voice slipped through the crack in the door. "Love her? Come on. I just haven't decided how to end it yet. Maybe I'll let her stand alone in the church on our engagement day. That could be fun." Laughter burst from the private room. I stood outside the door, my hands and feet turning ice-cold. So my five years of love were just his pastime, a knife meant to cut my mother. I ran from the club in a panic, drove straight into the storm, and died in a pileup on Chicago's South Side. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the year before anyone knew about me and Luca. This time, I wasn't going to wait for him to throw me away. I would leave first.

My name is Elena, and I died at twenty-two. My parents forced me to take my foster sister’s place and traded me for a territorial alliance. My mate was the most volatile heir of the wolf packs. Beaten bloody and fading fast, I made my eighth call for help. At my adopted sister Seraphina’s birthday party, she played the recording of my final, groveling plea—and laughed. My parents listened to those desperate calls with nothing but irritation, dismissing each one as theatrics, an inconvenience unworthy of their time. My brother snarled over the phone, “Then just die already!” So I did. In the end, it was my three-year-old daughter who made the final call—using her smartwatch to video my mother, live-streaming the freezer where my severed head lay. Now, my spirit watches from above as they all, one by one, begin to unravel.