Dead On Arrival A Novel Novels & Stories

**The Ghosts of War** The smoke from the explosions lingered in the air, mingling with the acrid scent of gunpowder and betrayal. The room was eerily silent, save for the distant echoes of sirens and the faint crackling of fire in the wreckage. Ayesha stood motionless, gun still raised, as Daniel Chambers slumped against the wall, a single bullet lodged in his chest. His breathing was ragged, but his smirk remained intact even as life drained from his eyes.

Ella Pezzano died in the flames at Costa Estate. The woman standing here was Luna Kane, heir to the Kane family. No one would ever hurt me again. Three days later, the yacht reached Norvale Port. Our car rolled into the wealthy district downtown. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the bustling night view of all of Norvale stretched out before us. I stood by the window, gazing at the glittering lights, but I felt nothing. … Third-person POV Back at Costa Estate, Vincenzo had already begun his retaliation against the Camorra family.

The first thing I got was what looked like a normal picture album. Expect, it had pictures of interrogations. However, I had a feeling every single person in this book was dead. There was a before and after picture. Hundreds were lined with dried blood along the edges. Dad didn’t even wash his hands before he put this together. Dirt covered the corners, an obvious worm line ran across the front and it smelled like death. Flipping to the back, I was surprised to see the dead men that dad left on our doorstep. That meant all these were recent.

I heard one of the men say, and my eyes widened in shock. At this moment of shock, I almost let out a gasp, but I was quick to cover my mouth, preventing any sound from making its way out of it. "I also wish we didn’t have to buy it, but we have been paid for it. Dawn had given us money to kill him and make sure no one knows where he is, so here it is, we have to kill him," they said, and I clenched my fists at the mention of Dawn’s name, she had to be the most heartless woman in the world because how could she even want to kill the alpha? What had he done to her?

The blood had nearly stopped flowing. The position of his right hand was strange; his fingers curled as if trying to grasp something. I crouched down. In his open left hand, written crookedly in blood, was a single word: "Run". 02:14. One minute left. 02:15 came. Nothing happened. I was still alive. "Substitute death successful. Eric Dawson was killed at 2:14 in Parking Lot C. Remaining loop time: 48 hours. "Go to Parking Lot C. There’s something for you."

I tried to dodge the attack, but I slipped on a rock underfoot and crashed into the wall. Pain shot through my still-healing wound, and a cold sweat broke out as I froze in place. Seeing this, Gerald sneered and advanced slowly with the knife in hand. "If it weren't for you, Meghan and I would've been married by now! Now, I'm going to send you to where you belong." As the knife was raised, I closed my eyes tightly, full of bitter resentment. The sound of the blade tearing through flesh pierced the air. My heart skipped a beat. I thought I'd die with regret, but the pain never came.

Then he hears Aaron. Aaron, by the tool rack, in a stage whisper apparently designed by a faulty theatre ghost: "That's the doctor. Think he knows about the dead-once thing?" Maya closes her eyes. Jin turns his head. "Dead once thing?" No laugh. No disbelief. Just careful attention, like he'd seen impossible things survive peer review and then eat the building. Maya opens her eyes. "Welcome to the base. We offer water, quarantine, and unfortunately, context."

“Ma’am, we can show you a photo first, so you can confirm whether it’s your daughter. It’s just… when we found her, she had been dead for three days, and the body had started to decompose. You should prepare yourself.” With that, he pulled out a photo from the scene and handed it to her. In the picture, a small, blood-soaked body—mine—was curled up on the bed in an unnatural position. My colorless lips and my sickly, bluish-purple skin told her one thing: I was dead. Mom’s eyes widened. At last, she could no longer lie to herself and burst into tears. “How could this happen? How could this be? She was fine just a few days ago. How could she be dead? Daisy, you cursed child, you’re just like

Terminal degradation of the core. The paper slipped from my paralyzed fingers, fluttering onto the dark silk sheets like a dead leaf. A heavy, suffocating shock settled deep into my chest, freezing the very air in my lungs until I couldn't even manage to let out a sob. I was a dying ghost walking through a palace of predators. I had months left to live, my time running out on a literal countdown, while my body was still dripping shamelessly for an Alpha who knew absolutely nothing about the rot killing his mate.

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.