As Good As Dead Holly Jackson Novels & Stories

She was skin and bones with huge bags under her eyes as her soul was being starved of an afterlife. “Holly?” My breath was caught in my throat as I looked at my ex-best friend. She was dead, and I didn’t even know. “I have her mate here, too.” Grant held up another vial with a purplish smoke in it. That must be Damian. “They had a son, and he is not currently running your old pack. Thankfully, I was able to… assist with that. Since I am blood and all and the poor uncle you murdered out of cold blood, little Axel was willing to help me take his abusive parents out.” Grant put the vial on the ground and Holly’s soul instantly sucked back in. Corking it, he put them back in his pocket.

A hard lump went down her throat and Alex presumed from her silence that he should go on. “Holly overdosed this morning.” He ripped the bandaid off and delivered the news as it was. It took a moment but Samantha pulled out the harsh cigarette between her lips and she crushed it with her feet. “And?” Came a cold response that could’ve started a fire in her chest. “And she was rushed to the state clinic where she died. It was Fentanyl, a very large dose and that came after a scheduled meeting with her prison therapist—she said Holly wasn’t doing well”

"Then test her. Ask her about the Zurich transfer from the fourteenth. Watch her eyes, Lucian. You’re my blood, you know when they’re lying. So, use it now. ​He stood up, buttoning his tailored jacket, signaling that the audience was over. He walked around the desk and clapped a hand onto my shoulder. His grip was heavy, suffocating. ​"I'm not asking you to sacrifice your feelings," Harrison whispered near my ear. "I'm asking you to decide whether you are a Vance... or just her collateral damage." ​He walked out of the study, the heavy oak door clicking shut behind him with the finality of a coffin lid.

After a long drive, he finally got to the hall, Hutton and Lex were all quiet smoking and drinking like their life depends on it, their expression exuded nothing but anger and rage, they felt just so ashamed, after the celebration, they ended up finding out they lost instead, and the worst was that they lost to a poor riffraff, it as so intimidating! "Have you killed him?" Hutton asked Jason the very moment he walked in, "Yeah, he is dead, the next to die is Ryan!" He gruffed slumping on the chair picking up a liquor, he gulped a large content and growled,

“Call the police, Ethan.” Tally looked at her friend, seeing Holly covered in pieces of broken glass, and her outfit was dirty and ripped. Ethan nodded, his attention still focused on Ashley. “Go ahead, Holly. I’ve got this.” As Holly pulled out her phone and dialed 911, Tally slowly rose to her feet, every muscle screaming in protest. She looked at Ashley, whose rage seemed to pulse off her in waves. “Ashley, please, you are out of control here.” Tally said.

She just turned on her heel and walked away, her boots crunching through the spreading pool of blood like it was nothing. I couldn’t breathe. I Could Not Breathe. “What the fuck—” I gasped, stepping backward, nearly tripping over my own feet. “What the fuck was that?!” Hoodie Guy’s expression didn’t change. He looked at the dead man, then at the brunette, and finally, back at me. “Bad timing,” he told me quietly. “Bad—?!” My voice cracked. “Someone just—she just killed him!” He sighed, like I was overreacting. “Yeah. That tends to happen in situations like this.”

"Mom, that wasn't doing good deeds. That was burning myself out to serve everyone else. "I don't want to live like that anymore. "I don't know how much longer my soul can stay here, but I've been feeling lighter and lighter. The police caught the people who hurt me, and whatever kept me here feels like it's fading too. "If I get another life... I hope I'm not your daughter again." When I finished, everything went silent. The desperation and madness drained from her face. She slowly reached for me. Then her hand dropped. A strange sound echoed around us, and somehow, I understood.

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.

Holly generally hated sitcoms but she found that she enjoyed The Good place and binge watching it was a way to drown her sorrows and get her mind off a lot of things. She was lying on her couch in her oversized sweatshirt and sweatpants while eating a large tub of cookies and cream ice cream and some chocolates. She knew it was unhealthy but she couldn't help herself. She had not left her apartment for about three days except to restock on more junk. Watching The Good place had turned out to be more philosophical than fun and Holly was starting to vaguely think on most of the choices she had been making the past few days.

Evil Taylor stood there in shock and disbelief while Jackson had his hand on her shoulder. My wolf was howling in my head and I was speechless that Jackson was alive. Evil Taylor turned around to look at him but she stepped back out of his grip. “What the hell is this?” She asked. “Taylor. It’s me.” Jackson said, a little surprised by the reaction. “Jackson’s dead. Who are you? What witchcraft is this?” Evil Taylor asked. “It is no trick. They tricked you. They didn’t kill me. Not really.” Jackson tried to explain. But Evil Taylor stood back shaking her head. Not believing anything that he said.