44 Days In Hell Novels & Stories

Half of the new flavored tea pot of Mr Ashford was almost downed as memories upon memories flooded my mind. The taste was indeed good as he had said, suitable for soothing a deranged soul. But then, every sip of it crept memories into my mind. Memories that pierced holes in my chest. Whitehead. 100 years of living in the human world yet his name lived rent-free in my mind. I stood, staring at my reflection, at the deep scar that I left embedded in there to remind me of that cruel night the name of the kingdom of Delmoria was written in blood. Every bit of it refused to vanish.

Her pale hand instantly scraped the ground, drawing red blood. Ignoring the uproar, he stormed out of the hall like a lunatic. By this time, I was already lying on a private medical jet bound for Zurich. Ethan sat beside me, watching the heart rate curve on the monitor return to normal while tightly holding my icy hand. He whispered, "Nicola, welcome back. You're free from now on."

Lyra’s POV The Kane hated me for taking their real daughter’s place, so after they found her, they turned me into a scapegoat for something their real daughter did wrong and locked me away in an asylum. I thought I was finally free the day I was released—but they found me again, smiling as they claimed I was actually their true daughter after all. Eight hundred and forty-two days. That’s how long it had been since I last stood outside without someone watching me, waiting to drag me back inside and force more of those bitter pills down my throat.

Then, Elaine and I started our new lives. Sometime later, I received a few videos from Mr. Quinton. The man in one of them was barely recognizable—he didn't even seem remotely human. He was curled up in a rusty cage, and his chest had collapsed. His ears and nose were missing, and he kept slamming his head on the side of the cage, leaving it bloody. Lindsey was the focus of the other videos. Her hair was a mess, and her gaze was unfocused. She was naked in a basement. She looked like she was in better condition than Harvey was, though.

If hell exists, there's an inferno waiting for me. I swerve around a pothole on the blacktop. In less than fifteen minutes, all hell will break loose. I survived seven years in prison, but my chances of surviving what's next are about nil. The men riding behind me know what we're heading into and, like me, they're ready to die.

Isabella stood over her, a cruel smile on her face before everything went black. When April regained consciousness, she found herself in a dark, cavernous room. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and something metallic—blood. She saw Lucifer in the distance, his body convulsing and morphing into various monstrous forms. His eyes glowed red, filled with a primal fury. Isabella stood to the side, watching with a mixture of fear and fascination. As Lucifer advanced toward April, his monstrous growls echoed through the cavern, sending chills down her spine. She knew he was out of control and could sense his intention to harm her.

Then warmth spread between my legs. It felt like my body was being torn apart. I convulsed in agony, my screams splintering in the air. My wolf pup... it was gone... I sank to my knees in a pool of blood. My chest ached as if it had been ripped open. I held the tiny bloody bundle to my chest and screamed in anguish. Every cry tore through my chest. Xavier... can you hear me? Xavier—! Despair, pain, and rage erupted into a raw, savage fury.

I remark. I place my foot on the step. The red light wraps around my ankle like a greeting. I remain unfazed. Because I’ve been to hell once. I exited holding my daughter’s mother. This time I am heading down to restore my granddaughter’s future. The family comes next. One by one. Nobody talks. It’s unnecessary for us to. Twenty-four days. The city believes it is approaching the moment to seize something from us. That is incorrect. We’re counting down to giving it something it’ll never survive.

one of them called. Yeah, that wasn't happening. My lungs burned as I sprinted past overflowing trash bins, the smell of rot and rain thick in the air. The city felt different tonight. I risked a glance back. Four men. All in black dark coats. The kind of men who didn't need to shout to be dangerous. "What is this, a joke?" I yelled, skidding around a corner. Suddenly, a hand grabbed my collar from behind. I barely had time to curse before my back slammed into a wall. Air rushed out of my lungs. One of them twisted my arm behind me with practiced ease with pain shooting up to my shoulder.

Hope was a greased rope—climb it, and you’d only fall harder. Dragon’s ice pack wept onto the table, carving rivers through grease. I traced its path. *603 days* Some maps only led deeper into hell—but I’d burn the whole state down before I’d stop walking.