All Of Us Are Dead Fanfiction Novels & Stories

Yet, he had the nerve to look worried. I shrugged my chin from his hold and murmured. “Zane is dead. I won't be a Luna anymore. Are you happy now?” At least that was what he wanted all along. Jason stayed silent, but his eyes were on me. He extended his hand to me, but I refused to take it. I stood on my feet, myself. “Everyone thinks they win. Zane is dead now. What's next for her? They can't wait to see me go down, but guess what?” I pinned him with my cold stare, sharp enough to cut through stone.

The kindness of this stranger nearly broke her. “I . . . I’m not worth it,” she said, and her face crumbled, and her skin crawled, and her hair was matted and she had just endured some of the worst hours of her life, listening to this mad man grunt and groan and howl as he ripped at her skin and bit at her breast. She was glad Aleta was dead. She was glad of it. Because if she had lived with these memories in her head . . . The hunter’s shine from earlier melted and turned into tears, which ran down her cheeks and dropped onto the freshly polished floor.

Chapter 3 Zenith’s POV I stared at the piece of drawing in my hand, a thousand thoughts running through my mind all at once. ‘Mama and Eli’ I said the words in a whisper, my mind refusing to accept the reality staring back at me. But one look at Sabrina told me all I needed to know. The kid was hers. “It could be ours,” Alder said excitedly. “Don’t!” I warned. “Have you forgotten what she did to us–?”

It was only at this moment—when she was completely isolated and helpless—that she finally realized just how incredibly good I had been to her. Bianca penned a long, rambling suicide note to me, filled with apologies and repentance. Then, she leaped off a bridge, bringing her life to an end.

I think about the first life and the ballroom floor and dying with my hands pressed against a cold marble surface asking for one more day. I got more than one day. I got this. "Yes," I say. Riven looks at me. The dawn arrives.

He was staring at me with wide, shocked eyes. "Maya?" he whispered. "What are you doing here?" Before I could answer, a crackling speaker came to life above us. [WELCOME TO THE SURVIVAL GAME] [Congratulations, you are all dead! But considering the greenhouse effect, hell is on recycle mode right now, so you are being sent to dead worlds, as entertainment! Please, provide the fanciest death you can, for the audience!] “What audience?!” Damian asked, but nobody, well, no dead body on the bus is in a mood to answer him.

I flinch like he slapped me. “I will never be yours,” I hiss. “Not in life. Not in death.” “Oh, sweetheart…” He chuckles softly, shaking his head. “You think your precious mates are coming?” Ice freezes my veins. He leans closer. “They’re dead by now, I’m sure. Killed when they attempted to storm my borders. Poor thing—you have nowhere left to run.” My heart stutters. Dead? No. No, that’s impossible. If even one of them had died which is highly impossible, Darius with his anger and strength, Draven with his caculated fury, Daemon with his half-feral devotion, I would have felt something rip inside me, I would have felt the bond snap.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

She claimed she had more to confess and insisted on seeing Henry. When she met with Henry, she immediately retrieved the hairpin that she hid and stabbed it right into Henry's heart. Henry died on the spot from excessive blood loss. Nora was soon executed as well. I heard that before she died, she kept apologizing to me. However, I no longer had any feelings for her. With the approval documents in hand, I took the train back to North Westonia. I was going to spend the rest of my life there, devoting it entirely to national defense.

I was greeted by a living area filled with people wearing gloomy faces, their eyes teary as they stared at me. I felt hands on me, patting my shoulders until one whispered to me. “We are sorry, Luna; the alpha is dead.” I barely acknowledged the words with a nod as I continued on my path, eager to reacquaint myself with my bed and just put an end to this, but they followed me, their voices as incessant as the pecking of birds. “He died of an overdose. We are sorry.” Why would they even be sorry? It wasn’t their fault.