Dead Man's Phone Game Novels & Stories

A hundred times, until blood pooled on the ground. "So what she said was right. You never loved me." Eve choked out, before finally taking her last breath. As the world was about to disappear, Shane quickly called upon the System in his mind. "Take me to Janine's world." "Understood, Host. However, I have to remind you: this is your last chance to finish a mission. I trust you know the consequences of failure." "Fine." Shane was also a transmigrator. His goal was to revive his wife, Celine, and his mission was to harm Janine.

My phone buzzed. David. "The number is registered to a prepaid phone. Purchased three weeks ago with cash. No name attached. But here's the interesting part: the SIM card is linked to an old account. Belongs to a Gerald Mitchell. He died last year. The line was supposed to be disconnected but it's still active." I read the message three times. A dead man's phone. Someone was using a dead man's phone to send threatening messages. This wasn't random. This was deliberate. Calculated.

even was. It told me: [Conditions unmet. Mission will initiate upon sufficient capability and target reacquisition. Program will remain active until completion.] Because it had no emotions, it gave me books—endless books—to study. I crouched in front of her, the hatred in my eyes no longer hidden. "I wanted you dead. How could I ever fall in love with you?" With that, I got on my bike and sped off. The private investigator, Callum Vance, whom I hired also sent me good news.

Julian is shaking so hard the lilies he brought have fallen to the floor, getting crushed under Mateo’s boots. "He’s a student!" I plead, looking at Lorenzo. "Lorenzo, tell them! You know he’s just a regular guy!" Lorenzo tilts his head. "Well..." "Lorenzo!" Mateo forces him into unlocking his phone, then scrolls for three seconds before his face goes dark. "Boss," Mateo says, handing the phone to my father. "He’s got photos of the warehouse on 4th Street. Sent them to an encrypted number ten minutes ago."

He smiled—and kicked my knee hard. I let out a muffled groan and dropped to my knees. He leaned down and whispered, in a voice only we could hear, "Why didn't you just die in the correctional facility? You insisted on coming back to compete with me? Hm? Bobby, what makes you think you're qualified to fight me?" The second file was an audio recording.

I heard only Rocco curse next to me. My fingers curled tight around the gun, my breathing even and controlled. I edged closer, my stomach twisting as I saw the face of the man. One of my dad's men. One of the ones I'd trusted. I took a deep breath, fuming. War was what this was. I couldn't get my voice out before a phone rang. Not mine. The dead man's. A burner phone on his thigh, screen flashing with an incoming call. The number was unlisted.

he said as he stared at the burning building with the kidnappers inside screaming in pain. “Grim reaper?” confusion was on my face. He shook his head, “Non, I am Doom and I bring death to people.” “What do you mean?” I asked with confusion. He replied with a cold voice, “It doesn’t matter. You will forget about me anyway.” “I won’t… You saved me. I owe you my life,” I murmured. “You will, I will make you,” he softly mumbled as he slowly snapped his finger in front of me.

To help her childhood sweetheart, David Middleton, take my place studying abroad, my wife, Sharon Griffin, destroys my records and deliberately fills in false information, ensuring that I'm permanently denied a visa. She even severely injured my hands before sending me to the Behavioral Reform Center. My mother-in-law, Paula Brown, who has always treated me with affection, takes Sharon's side. "Kyle is so ungrateful. We gave him everything, and he still wanted to get a PhD abroad to find his biological parents. Who's going to take care of me if he's gone?" Sharon snorts. "He's just vain. When he found out I'd turned down Westbridge's offer of admission, he gave me the silent treatment an

She laughed intermittently. Magdalene and Davies alighted from the car and walked in the direction of the marquee. They sat down on a three-sitter chair. Davies started playing a game on his phone as they waited for Gino and Gina. The game was titled Gangster. Davies was a gangster, so he had to ensure that the police didn’t catch him. Davies was so engrossed in the game that he never raised his head to see what Magdalene was doing. He had played the game five times and he had won. He was playing the game for the sixth time when Magdalene hit him on the lap. “Mr. man, have you forgotten that you are at school already? Is this how you play games when classes are going on?” Magdalene frowned.

My reflection stares back—a girl who looks like she should be crying over a broken heart, not planning how to dismantle a goddamn death game from the inside out. Perfect Clear. Two of them. The System had to make a spectacle of it. A bitter laugh escapes my lips. “Should’ve seen that coming. Nothing’s ever quiet with you, is it?” I’m talking to the empty room, to the unseen architecture of the Game. It doesn’t answer. It just watches. My new phone glows on the coffee table. Sleek, transparent, cold to the touch. The Game’s welcome gift for surviving your first Instance. Your leash and your lifeline, all in one. It buzzed once already.