Dead Wrong Book Novels & Stories

He looked at me, and his eyes, the color of old, yellowed ink, widened. "Princess Elara?" the man asked, his voice sounding like dry leaves skittering across a floor. "No. You're too old. You're... you're a revision." "Who are you?" Kaelen demanded, stepping between me and the stranger. "I am the Librarian of the Rejected," the man said, bowing with a mocking, exaggerated flourish. "I am the one who catches the characters the Editor throws away. Welcome to the Dead-End, Duke Thorne. I've been waiting for your 'Cancellation' for a long time."

I grab the book off the shelf and drop to the floor, right there in the aisle. My fingers tremble as I flip to the end. I already know what happens, but I can’t stop myself. Luke Thorne, the immortal hockey star. The one man who ever loved like he meant it. And the heroine fails him. I stare at the final panel, my tears dripping onto the page. “She let him die,” I whisper. My throat closes. “She let him die alone.” I press the book to my chest and sob, rocking back and forth like a child.

“Until then, really, I do suggest you rest.” “I’ll… consider it…” I relented a little. Dr. Patel sighed and turned for the door. “Save me from stubborn patients and their caregivers,” he muttered under his breath as he left. When he was gone, Rowena turned to me, eyes sharp, not loopy at all. “So?” “So…?” I echoed. “We do have two dead bodies in the bookstore. I don’t know how long that lie’s going to hold. Plus it’s not as though you’re an actual registered human being. Do you even have a birth certificate?” Rowena asked.

“Mr. Grey, I’m your mother’s lawyer. I’m calling to discuss her estate. She left a will stating that everything goes to Ms. White. I just need confirmation that you’ve been informed.” Xavier’s grip tightened on his phone, and his voice grew tense. “Can you stop with the games? Do you think it’s fun playing a fool of me?” The lawyer’s voice remained cold. “No one is playing a fool of you. Your mother was buried today. We’re handling her affairs as she requested.” Xavier abruptly ended the call. He walked over to the urn, crouched down, and picked up a bit of the spilled ashes. Ashes were nothing like flour, and the difference was obvious.

He grabbed the blade with his other hand. Blood dripped from Andrew’s palm and trickled down his arm. It stained my wedding dress. The security guard finally rushed over and fired at Aaron. The bullet went through Aaron’s chest, and blood splattered out. Aaron tumbled onto the floor, his eyes unfocused. He kept mumbling, “I’ve paid for my crime, I’m sorry.” Aaron died. I took the knife from Andrew’s palm and used my wedding dress to press against Andrew’s wound. Andrew’s forehead was drenched in sweat from the pain, but he was still smiling and comforting me, “The small blade wouldn’t hurt me. It’s not painful, don’t worry.”

Four of them total. Three are Silver Hunters, and the fourth ... is Sara Khalek. A gasp flies from my lips, and Davis shifts into his wolf form. "Sara." I rush to her side and feel her cheek. She's cold. She's been dead for many hours, maybe for days. Davis sniffs one of the bodies, his wolf lips curling back. "She put up a good fight." His bass werewolf voice echoes in the small room. I close my eyes against the tears. "Are there any others in here?"

The temperature in the bunker seemed to drop to absolute zero. I stared at the screen, my jaw clenching until my teeth ached. Marcus had been with Thorne Industries for ten years. He was a man I had trusted, a man I had given millions in stock options. And he had sold my life to Victoria Vance for a percentage of a dying syndicate. "He is dead," I growled, the raw, savage dominance of my bloodline taking over.

"The place where every unfinished story is abandoned." The room became still. The woman frowned. "A place can't move." "No," the First Reader replied quietly. "It isn't a place anymore." "It became... hungry." The bright point continued drifting across the map. Each line it consumed vanished forever. Adrian watched several glowing paths disappear. "What happens to those stories?" The White Book answered before anyone else could. Fresh words appeared across its pages. They are forgotten before they are ever imagined. A chill ran through the room. The boy slowly closed the nameless notebook.

The morgue was cold, carrying a foul, sterile smell. Expressionless staff pushed me into a metal drawer. With a soft "click," the door closed. The system's voice echoed in my mind. [Death confirmed. Final storyline completed.] [Countdown to soul departure: 71 hours 59 minutes.] [Please await the opening of the passage.] I drifted in the cold, hollow air and let out a breath. Finally, things were coming to an end.

How should I tell him that his most trusted person has failed? I thought I knew how to deal with Richard, but I was obviously wrong. I got nervous at myself because I wanted to put this criminal in jail. He was very dangerous, he had business in many states, and even outside America. I took a shower, got my pijama, and fell asleep with that only thought. The thought that I failed. ON THE NEXT DAY LAURA P.O.V I woke up with great reluctance. I knew what I should do today. To tell my boss that the mission is being canceled.