How Does 'One Of Us Is Dead' End?

“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.

The mystery of love is greater than the mystery of death.~Oscar Wilde~Adoration is not profound enough a word to express the depth of my love for her. From the moment she walked into my life and set my heart and soul on fire, not a day's gone by that she hasn't plagued my every thought.We were each other's completion. She was everything I wasn't--the sigh to my roar, the virtue to my sin, the cure to my wounds.We Were One.Until the unthinkable happened.That I've survived such a tragedy without having completely lost it, is a mystery in itself. But as my mind starts to blur the lines between reality and my delusional heart, I begin to question everything, including my sanity.And then the real mystery begins . . .Author's note: We Were One is an alternate POV to Girl In The Mirror but both books can be read as stand alones without the need to read the other to follow along!We Were One is created by Elizabeth Reyes, an eGlobal Creative Publishing signed author.

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.

My son is dead. He dies in a cramped toilet cubicle after having his skull smashed in. My husband, the school principal, arrives on the scene. The first thing he does is carry his true love's son, the one who killed my son, into an ambulance. They hurriedly leave. Before his death, my son tells me, "Don't cry, Mom. I'm not sad that Dad doesn't believe me. It's enough that you do…" I call Joshua Tucker during my son's funeral. He roars angrily, "Kenny had to get two stitches on his arm because of your son! If you keep pestering me like this, I'll beat him up when I get home!" My son? I look at the gaping hole in my son's head, the one that won't ever bleed anymore. I shut my eyes. Yes, he's my son. My son is dead, Joshua. From now on, there's nothing between us.

The day we were meant to be mated, my Alpha, Ford, was ambushed. Silver bullets shredded his car, sending it plunging off a bridge and into the river below. He was pronounced dead. Drowned. I was left pregnant with his heir, shattered by the raw agony of our severed mate bond. Then Ford's twin, Aiden, returned from abroad with his mate, Kyra. His identical face and a scent so similar to my mate's nearly drove me mad. A desperate part of me swore Ford was still alive. I told myself it was just grief. A widow's delusion. Until I overheard a hushed conversation and the horrifying truth slammed into me: the man pretending to be Aiden was Ford. He had faked his death. He'd let his own brother die in his place, all for Kyra—the other woman carrying his child. The grief that had crippled me instantly morphed into a cold, sharp rage. Ford didn't just break our bond; he shattered it. And I would make him pay. I wiped my tears and sent a single message to my brother, Billy, the Alpha of the Winterstone Pack. "Brother, I need a plane crash. He loves faking his death? Fine. Let him feel what it's like to truly lose a mate." Only when the news of my "death" spread did Ford reclaim his name. He knelt for seven days and nights in the ashes of the home we once shared, consumed by a grief of his own making.

The prettiest girl in our class, Mandy Smith, died unexpectedly in our dorm. When the police took statements, my two other roommates and I pleaded guilty. I took out Mandy’s love letter to my boyfriend. “I killed her because she was seducing my boyfriend.” Anna Anderson took out a purchase history for cyanide. “I killed her because she snatched my overseas studies spot from me.” Fiona Lee took out an expulsion letter. “I killed her because she reported me for cheating.” All three of us hated Mandy. However, the police found that all of us had alibis during Mandy’s time of death. The counselor also asked us to stop lying. However, the three of us sneered. “Whether you believe it or not, one of us is the murderer.”