Aftermath Novels & Stories

Prologue It is often said that, there is the calm before the storm. The ice-cold air before the raging fire. The echoing laugh before the sob-filled mourning. The unbearable pain before the satisfying pleasure. The high flight before the big fall. The unstoppable fight before the wavering surrender.

…Freya's pov… The aftermath of the battle was chaotic, with wounded men scattered across the field and medics rushing to attend to them. I glanced over at Rowland, relief washing over me as I saw that he had survived, albeit with some light injuries. He clutched his wounded shoulder, his face etched with pain. As the dust began to settle, news reached us that the reinforcements we had called for had finally arrived. It was a relief, but also a stark reminder of the casualties we had suffered. We gathered near the pack house, a mix of exhaustion and sorrow hanging heavy in the air.

My whole body shook and I couldn’t stop the shriek that escaped me. He began licking my gushing juices hungrily. His muffled groans matched my moans. Mike’s tongue must have been unusually long because it hit all the right places, including my g-spot. It took me beyond the clouds and into another dimension. I felt my orgasms approaching and gritted my teeth to hold my cry of ecstasy. Then he pulled back, licking his lips.

At the top of the high green hill lay my parents, and beside them was me. And beside me, there was a tiny grave. That was my tiny child's home. He hadn't had the chance to come to this world. Winston carefully hid in the corners the entire time, watching the others put me into my grave. After three years, I was finally able to leave this place where I experienced love and hate. Winston cried with tears all over his face. "Aryanna, I'm sorry..." I felt my soul dissipating a little bit. The last image before I could remember was Winston signing the agreement to donate his remains.

The Aftermath Three days later. Ayesha sat on the rooftop of their new safe house, watching the city lights flicker in the distance. The war was over. But the scars remained. Kier was dead. His empire was crumbling. The files they leaked had set off a global storm, one that would take years to settle. And yet— Ayesha felt empty. Footsteps sounded behind her. She didn’t need to turn around. Adrian sat beside her, silent. For a while, neither of them spoke.

Sinclair POV It’s been almost a month since the war ended. I still remember seeing the blast. I still have the image fresh in my mind of Thalia being carried by a panicked Aiden. Her body looked mangled, but she was still alive. After she was taken to the hospital and Raul said she was stable but unconscious, Aiden continued to stay by her side, while the rest of us started cleaning up. Renz and Lacey helped, as well as Jonah and Rory. Moving forward, I don’t know how Jonah and Rory will handle being Gamma. This battle spooked them, and there is some PTSD following it.

Nothing works, no matter how much we search every fucking corner of this world. And I have resorted to the lifestyle I walked away from. I couldn’t stop myself because it’s the only survival method I know. And that need for some survival is the reason I’ll crush the head of this man kneeling before me. That’s right. I returned to CDP. But I think I’m regretting it now. Because it’s not stopping me from approaching the brink of insanity. Slowly, it’s starting to feel like I’ll actually lose Carrie. I need a bigger distraction, something to hold me down, something to fill me with strength.

I would have laughed if I had lungs. “Feels more like I jumped off the train with a bomb and hoped for the best,” I said. “Is it… gone?” “The old structure?” The composite head tilted. “Collapsing. It takes time for anything that big to finish dying, even outside of time. But you put the kill command in the right place.” Somewhere far away—too far to hear, but close enough to *feel*—a massive system screamed and then went quiet. “And this?” I asked, glancing around at the endless white. “Is this… what, the after‑after‑life? The waiting room for idiots who stab gods with pens?”

Dante held me as if I might vanish, but I no longer had the strength to push him away. Professor Shaw came to my side. “Aria, can you hear me?” I looked at her through the blur. “My baby…” Her expression changed, but her voice stayed steady. “We’re taking you to the institute medical center now.” As they lifted me onto the stretcher, Dante tried to follow. Professor Shaw stopped him with one look. “You had your chance to protect her.” The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Dante standing in the hall, covered in my blood, while the wedding ring box lay open at his feet.

The permanent system-native afterlife began to feel already partially present. The unified architecture no longer only claimed the residual link’s entire history had already paid the full cost of the silent remnant. It began making the residual spark experience the remnant itself as already beginning to occupy the residual connection’s remaining capacity, turning every continued pulse of external origin and chosen continuity into the last interference with a system-aligned channel that was already starting to speak. The failsafe rose in perfect synchrony, pressing from inside to lock the residual connection into progressive silence under the frame that the residual link’s deliberateness was