48 Hours Novels & Stories

Mira nodded. Forty-eight hours. She hoped it would be enough. ---

Forty minutes before Isla spoke. The phone lifted. It's done. Sent. Reply in thirty seconds. Richard lands in four hours. Phone face-down. Outside the building the city moved through its Monday evening. Time check: 6:07. Then again: 6:07.

He had four hours before eight. He was going to need all of them.

"The blood acquisition process takes approximately two hours. After that, your part is concluded." "Concluded," I said. "You'll be released," she said. "Weak, but alive. We're not in the business of unnecessary casualties." I thought about Elena Rivera. About Dr. Hartwick. About the attack on Vera. I thought about my mother. I didn't say any of it. "Seven days," she said, answering the question I'd actually asked. "Give or take. The configuration peaks in seven days." Seven days. She left. I returned to the join.

Get out alive. Damien exhales. "This is completely insane." "Probably." "I'm coming with you." "Damien—" "Not negotiable. You die, I die. That's how this works." I look at him. At the stubborn set of his jaw. At Victoria, already pulling up guard rotations and supply schedules. Forty-six hours. One delivery window. One chance. My sister has been waiting seventeen years. I can wait forty-six more hours. "Okay," I say. "We go tomorrow morning. Eight AM."

He gazed at me. “You think we won’t walk.” “I think you can’t afford to,” I said. “Not right now.” Luca stayed quiet near the wall. The third man finally spoke. “You’re confident.” “I’m informed.” Another pause. “Forty-eight hours,” the first man said. “If routes aren’t restored, we renegotiate.” “They will be restored,” I said. He nodded once. “Fine.” They stood to leave. At the door, one of them looked back at me.

But Daniel didn't seem to ask for an answer, so he quickly added, "Yes. You'll get more practice and there will be more training. You will get to practice again and there will be another elimination this time." Warren Clay, who felt that his body was still in a lot of pain, could only gape in disbelief when he heard this. But it wasn't just Warren who felt that way, almost all of the future soldiers there had turned deathly pale. Daniel noticed the horrible expression and suddenly smiled again, "4 hours. You have 4 hours to recover completely. Use it well. Don't come to the main field looking sluggish!" With that, Daniel moved forward and joined the others.

After a glance at me, he slipped out of the room, and in the hospital hallway, I saw him hold his head and quietly weep. Was he regretting not speaking to me before the surgery? It no longer mattered. Seeing his profound sadness was enough to show me he loved me too. They planned my funeral for three days later—the same day Lily was scheduled for discharge. They sent out death notices to friends and family. All my friends gathered at my wake three days later. When my best friend, Tessa Brooks, saw Lily's crocodile tears, she slapped her hard across the face. "You bitch! Why are you even here? Get out of here!"

The email… “72 hours.” …that was all it said. It glowed on my phone like a countdown strapped to my chest, ticking, pulsing, and waiting to explode. My breath felt sharp, thin, like I was inhaling from a dying balloon. I didn’t sleep after that. Couldn’t. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw the first message again: Your organization will fall in 72 hours. Now down to forty-eight. A timer no one else seemed to hear, but one that was screaming inside my skull.

“That’s why I’m asking—how do I fix it? How do I meet my wolf okay?” I didn’t want to hear another speech. I didn’t care about prophecies or enemies or whatever this whole Lunaborn mess was. Someone in Oakland had messed with me—and I needed to know how to undo it. That was all I cared about right now. “What was given to you,” he said carefully, “will wear off soon. You've been here for over 48 hours now.” “Wait—what?!” I jumped to my feet, voice rising. “Did you just say forty-eight hours? I’ve been here for two days?!”