Carnage Island Read Online Novels & Stories

She scoffed and just shook her head, smirking at me as if she had so much power over me now. Coral Island was a deserted area, out of the sight of the local authorities of this country and a place that was very convenient to do some illegal activities. In the past, the early Mafia members used it to smuggle weapons and armour. Due to its secluded area, no one batted eyes at it, thinking it was just a useless empty land surrounded by the sea. Who would want to live there anyway? The landscape and scenery on that island were horrible too. It seemed like a haunted place, so no developer was interested to build a resort there.

A moment later, a logo popped up, along with the words “The Island.” A British male voice started speaking, but the camera didn’t show the narrator. Instead, it showed scenes that looked like something out of a hunting show to start with. As I listened to the narrator recapping the last episode, one of the images featured a slightly overweight man grappling with a shorter black woman. He held her down, forcing her onto all fours before climbing on top of her.

I was amused by how things unfolded, to say the least. Just as I was sorting through evidence for Lucas, I suddenly felt a warm trickle on my lips. Blood oozed out of my nose and dripped onto my blanket. Trembling, I called Ian. I was now terrified of dying, worried that I would die before I could take my revenge. Ian arrived with an entire medical team. After a thorough examination, they concluded that I was just suffering from mild dehydration. Only then did he finally sigh a breath of relief. After everyone left, he looked at me like a guilty child and said, "It's my fault for not considering your health condition. I'll bring you even lighter food from now on."

Then we each go to our various vehicles–Raven, Sophie, Thorne, and Agnes in Raven's Mustang; Dominic, Fleming, Abby, Rachel, and the Phantom in Dominic's four-door Jaguar; and Enid on her own motorbike, a little black Triumph similar to Tristan’s. Our little caravan heads up the coast, then we board a ferry–which I've never done, so I'm excited and my eyes are everywhere. I sit in the front and watch as birds follow us in the air, and dolphins in the water. The ferry takes us to a small island and we're the only ones who get off at that stop. The island is occupied by a giant, empty lighthouse. “It’s decommissioned, and the security guard lets people from Tidepool Cove have picnics here,” ex

Corvin held onto the rail, his injured wings pressed against his back. Miro surfaced beside me. "I smell blood," he said. "Ahead. In the water." "How far?" "Half a mile." I looked north. A glow appeared on the horizon. Orange. Flickering. Fire. --- The prison island was burning. Buildings that had stood for a hundred years were collapsing into ash. The dock was gone. Bodies floated in the water — Variants, from the look of them. Young. Small. "Too late," Kai whispered.

I looked around, my vision blurring, the only thing clear being the cold, dead body of Jax on the deck. I heard footsteps approaching from the rear corridor. It was Cane. He was covered in scorch marks, his armor shredded, his eyes wide with horror. "Eloise," he whispered, stepping over the corpses of the Vanguard. I turned to him, my claws still dripping with ichor. I wasn't Eloise. I wasn't the White Wolf. I was just the wreckage of a woman who had tried to build a revolution out of thieves and shadows. "He’s dead, Cane," I said, my voice empty.

It resembled the maw of a hungry predator ready to swallow something in a single gulp, as well as the moist core of the uninhabited island that made the red blood of conception boil. The sound of cool bedrock water dripping from deep within the cave and the violent roar of waves surging outside blended together stickily. It created a strange resonance, as if the entire island were panting heavily like a mating beast. "We have arrived, My Lady." Behind my back, the feral man's thick, husky voice—drenched in sweat and exuding the feral heat of a male—broke the tight silence. The bottom of the boat scraped a heavy, dragging rut into the silver sand.

What makes you think you can get revenge when you're losing your mind over a scar? My hands clenched into fists at his words. "I can handle it," I spat out, my voice shaking from frustration and realization of a truth I didn’t want to believe. But Malakai continued nonetheless. "Can you? Can you handle killing the person you were? Losing your past? You'll be no one. No company. No legacy. No family.” He stopped for a while, just staring at me. “Your face isn't just a scar. It's a symbol of the new you. It's not a con, Isabella ."

Somewhere beneath those waves lay everything I’d buried — every touch, every whispered promise, every version of me that wasn’t his wife. By the time we landed, dawn had crawled over the horizon. The island was beautiful in that cruel, perfect way — the kind of place built to make you forget the rest of the world existed. White sand. Private villa. Staff that smiled too much and spoke too little. Carl loved it. I could tell from the way his shoulders loosened, the way his voice softened when he said, “Finally, somewhere quiet.” Quiet. That was exactly what terrified me. We were alone. He poured champagne the moment we arrived. “To us,” he said, raising his glass.

My scar throbs violently, heat radiating up my neck like a warning flare. Images slam into me without permission. A car spinning, Metal screaming and Smoke choking my lungs. A voice whispers, close, intimate, cruel. “You’re the one who survived, maltina.” My knees weaken and then I reach for Dante instinctively, fingers trembling, trying to say his name. My mouth opens, but the sound that comes out is hollow, distant, like it belongs to someone else. Across the room, Isabella’s eyes lock with Antonio Recognition flashes between them. Cold, Calculated and Deadly.