Csi: Miami Ryan Wolfe Died Novels & Stories

“Where did they bring Rachel?” “They want to sedate her…” Becca said in a hoarse whisper. “She was too frantic… she couldn’t handle the news…” “What news?” I asked, at that point, I wasn’t even sure I wanted to know. “Ryan might be dying…” It felt like there was no air in the room. I felt sick to my stomach, and I stumbled away from her. I couldn’t have heard her correctly. He was a wolf. Wolves were known to be stronger than most and that meant it took a lot to kill a wolf. Ryan had to be okay. “What’s going on?” Brody asked and I realized both Brody and Ashton were approaching.

"Closed his bank accounts. Disconnected his phone. He’s gone off the grid." My pulse quickens. "You think he was involved?" "We think it's worth looking into," Rivera says carefully. "Especially considering his connection to Carlos Ramos, who flies jets now." The name hits me like a punch. "Ramos? A pilot?" Calloway nods. "They served together. Three tours in Afghanistan. Special operations. And as of this morning—” He pauses. “Carlos Ramos is dead.” I stare at him. “What?” “Suicide,” Rivera says. “Found in a motel room outside the city two hours ago.”

I only hope that Monica can be happy. That in a life without me, she finds the happiness she deserves. In the distance, I heard the howl of a wolf pack. They were mourning the passing of an Alpha. But they didn't know. It wasn't an Alpha who died. Just a man. A fool who had burned his whole world down for nothing. A man named Ryan.

she stands up and extends her hand to Dave, who is being dragged along by the hurricane named Mary. "So..." Niels gets my attention. "What are you drinking?" "I think a gin and tonic. But I admit I'm not a hundred percent sure." "Who would've thought, Collins," he smiles. "Don't judge me." "It's not that. It's just that you always had a prim and proper look." "And you don't?" "Not for those closest to me." "Alright." That reminded me of why he and Ryan were friends. "I'm still curious about why you decided to leave Ryan's."

The city never really slept, but tonight it felt like it was mourning. Headlines flickered across glowing screens on every corner: CASSIAN WESLEY PRESUMED DEAD IN COASTAL HIGHWAY EXPLOSION. A neat, devastating line for the tabloids to chew on. A scandal ended. A tragedy reborn. But Rowan Maddox couldn’t accept a single word of it. Not when his chest still burned with the memory of Cassian’s voice, not when his instincts screamed louder than every headline combined. Not when his gut told him Cassian Wesley was still alive.

They were now on the huge living room of the Villa. "Flash News! A well known mediaman was killed in shooting incident that have just occurred. According to eyewitnesses, two men on a motorcycle stopped in front of the victim and shot him ten times. The victim was declared dead on arrival at the hospital. He was identified as Randolf Nuñez, a known critic of Bran Davis, son of the current City Mayor. More details to follow," The newscaster reported after which, the normal TV program resumed.

I wanted to tell her everything but that wasn’t a possibility. I took a deep breath and pasted on the most impassive expression I could as she burst through my door. “Michael, have you seen the news?” she asked. She still had her coat on and her purse was swinging from her arm with the force of her entrance. I glanced up at her and shrugged. “I didn’t have time this morning.” She charged toward my desk and thrust her phone at me. On the screen was an article about Sal’s death. “Sal Rossi is dead,” Rainey said frantically. “From an overdose. I can’t believe this happened to him. We just saw him. He didn’t look like someone who did drugs.”

He opened it and pulled out a rolled up newspaper and a single white rose attached to it. “Hey, look what came to the office today,” he said with a winning smile. Sierra approached the bed and took the newspaper. She unrolled it and read the article that was circled in black marker. It was an obituary for Colton Anderson Rhodes. He was twenty four when he died at a hospital in Versailles, France. “He’s… dead?” her voice cracked involuntarily. “Dead and defeated,” Raphael laughed and picked up the white rose. “This is a sign. Now that they don’t have a leader anymore, his family’s asking for a truce,”

DARIAN I woke up to the sound of birds and static. The bed beside me was empty, and still warm. Her scent lingered on the sheets, vanilla and citrus, soft and sharp all at once. My arm reached out instinctively, but I touched nothing but air. Then the television buzzed to life. I had forgotten I’d set the news to autoplay. I didn’t expect to hear my brother’s name. “Breaking news out of Mexico this morning. Billionaire Roman Wolfe presumed dead after a yacht explosion. The luxury vessel, The Sovereign, went up in flames just hours ago…”

She managed to escape and was chased by all of Elgar's henchmen, but who would have thought that Miley would plunge into the river and drown. "Her death was too easy," Elgar said. "Have you made sure she's really dead?" "Of course, Sir. Some people monitoring at the hospital immediately took care of Miss Miley's body when Taylor and Nania left," Theo replied. Elgar chuckled. "Those two cowards seem afraid to face me directly. Taylor Wolf, alias Taylor Fox, and his lover Nania Wolf. Ah, let it be... consider Miley's death as payback for Carista's death."