Blood Ashes Of War Novels & Stories

"Please, Ryan, don't do this. He's your son! Please, don't take this from me!" But Ryan's mind was filled with anger and betrayal. He opened the urn and began to pour the ashes onto the ground. "No!" Sophia wailed, her cries echoing through the cemetery. She lunged forward, her hands clawing at the ashes as they scattered. The gray powder clung to her hair and skin, mixing with her tears as she wept uncontrollably. She pressed her head to the ground, her body trembling with sorrow. "My baby," she sobbed, her voice barely audible. "I’m so sorry… I’m so sorry…"

They just needed one lucky bite to my artery, and I would lose this fight. I let the two hit my side and went straight for the third. They could get their scratches in for now. I quickly killed the third wolf, and the two now needed a new fucking plan. It was almost comical how easy it was to kill them, weren’t it for the fact that I knew some of these soldiers. I knew what the war did to their families. How many more people would lose their mate or family member today? "You need to go back." Asher ordered. It came out sounding angry and worried at the same fucking time. What happened?

She stayed sprawled on the ground, bleeding and staining the floor, eyes tightly shut as she endured the harsh spinning and pounding of her head. All this war... for what? She could feel his deep loathing, and she knew he wouldn't leave her unscathed. By not immediately killing her, he wanted to end everything of her: violate her, shatter her, embarass her—and he was almost successful. She was already embarassed enough having been useless during the fight, and she was further embarassed having to look like this in front of them. She wondered... would they still place their hope on her?

She thought about the specific unraveling that had come after, which had also been real. She thought: both things were real. Both are part of this. She wrote: *I am not forgetting the first time. I am building on it. The wreckage became the foundation. That is not a metaphor — it is the literal structure of what we have.* She looked at what she had written. She thought about the dress hanging in the bedroom, the deep ivory, the clean lines. She thought about Lyra asleep in the room down the hall, whose world was about to formalize into something she did not yet have language for but would grow up knowing in her body.

"Memories don't wait for convenience, Mr. Voss. If there's a chance she can identify the arsonist, we need to take it." Eve squeezed Alex's hand. "It's okay. I need to do this." The east wing was a tomb. Charred beams, water-stained walls, the faint outline of furniture reduced to skeletons. The smell of smoke was thicker here, acrid and choking. Eve's steps faltered as they reached the master bedroom, or what remained of it. Flashes hit her — not real memories, but vivid nightmares fed by KJ's files and her own guilt: Sophia screaming, flames climbing the curtains, a man's silhouette in the doorway.

Esmeralda Morrison Hale reaching out to wish me well. The woman I tried to destroy. The woman who destroyed me back. The woman who won. I should hate her. Should delete the message. Instead, I type back. Me:thank you. Good luck to you too. You won, by the way. I hope it was worth it. Her response comes immediately. Esmeralda:I didn't win. Nobody wins in this. We all just survive. I read it three times. She's right. Nobody won. We all just survived.

His eyes have turned blood shot, his face now fading into a deep redish-purple, the evil smile on my face the last thing he sees before he closes his pothetic eyes. Alex is leaning against my desk, the look of boardom on his face" man should of kept his mouth shut" he shrugs. Standing and walking away from the solider staining my rug. I hand him two peices of paper "Send word to gentral warren, tell him too burn it" "NO ONE GETS OUT ALIVE"! The power radiating off me has him bowing his in submition."Yes alpha" he says turning to deliver the message. "and alex... bring me a file of everyone on that list" he stops stort the look of confusion on his face as he looks the list over."Servant file

“Everything.” The altar’s surface ripples like water disturbed by snow.And then I’m not standing in the church anymore. I’m standing in a field of frost under a sky that isn’t a sky—layers of memory stacked like glass. Shapes move within it. Figures without faces. Tall. Still. Watching. You broke a claim, the voice says. That echoes. “I didn’t mean to start a war,” I whisper.Wars do not begin with intent. They begin with notice. My chest tightens. “So now what? You called me. Why?”

The same war inside. And the ashes, in silence, began to speak.

Hearing the door open, he raised his eyes slightly and glanced at Brewster. Brewster breathed hitched. He could feel Ace's terrible mood. Ace returned his gaze to his laptop, "Wash up." He ordered. Brewster nodded and slowly dragged his feet to the bathroom. His mind wandered as he opened the shower, letting the water pour over his body while he rubbed it. "I hope... he pays me this time." He silently wished.