Deadly Cross Novels & Stories

I couldn't feel his pulse. He was dead. Nicholas Cross was dead.

"Because Mr. Cross wants to die with some dignity. He's seventy-three years old. He has terminal cancer. Pancreatic. Same as Victor Ashford. Six months to live. Maybe less." I felt nothing. No sympathy. No pity. "So he wants a deal?" "He wants to die in a hospice instead of a prison. In exchange, he'll give you everything. Names of every Covenant member. Locations of bodies. Evidence of crimes going back thirty years. Including information about your kidnapping and your mother's death." "We already have most of that. Katherine Price gave us names. Thornton's suicide note gave us more. We don't need Cross." "You don't have everything. Cross was there from the beginning. He knows things no one

Inside, standing in the center of the room under a single flickering light, was him. Darian Cross. He looked exactly as I remembered. Cold eyes, sharp features, holding a silver dagger in his hand. He saw me and didn't look surprised. Instead, he smiled—a cruel, mocking smile. "Well," Cross drawled, his voice raspy. "I must say, Alpha Elion... I am impressed. You should be dead. The bullets were laced with enough wolfsbane to kill ten Alphas. Yet here you are, walking and talking." He took a step closer, his eyes narrowing.

Where it had struck Alexander, his skin was smoking. "Alexander!" I scrambled toward him, but he held up a hand, his eyes fixed on the broken window. "Stay back." "Your shoulder—" "It will heal." But his voice was strained. "Don't touch the cross. The silver—it's poisoned. For my kind." I stared at the object on the floor, my heart pounding. A cross. Through the window. Someone had thrown a cross into Alexander's bedroom. Someone knew what he was. Someone wanted him dead. "Who—" I started.

*"She clawed her way out. She remembers the name you buried." Eden lifts the key, its frost melting into his scarred palm. "Where?" The wolf dissolves, its final whisper scraping my skull. *"The Crossroads. Where all debts collect."* --- The Crossroads festers beneath the wastes like a poisoned root. We descend into a derelict subway station, its tiles slick with black mold, fluorescent lights flickering over walls papered with missing-person posters-each one Eden's face, dates spanning centuries. The heart seethes. *"Her obsession is *pathetic*."*

While dead I was certain he wasn’t going to hurt me again. He wasn’t asleep anymore. He was on his feet, backing me with his phone in his ears. “I’d like to arrange a meeting with you and my wife” I stopped walking toward him as I listened. “I think she will be in for confession,” he said and I silently scoffed. It was no doubt he was speaking with the church's reverend father. He wanted me to confess my sins while he wallowed in his? Was this man even sane? He saw himself as all holy while he did evil things, yet I was the sinner.

Katherine's eyes sparkled as she looked upon the Pont Neuf, the oldest standing bridge in Paris. She took out her cell phone to take pictures of herself, after a few selfie, she glanced at them and pouts her lips. A full body picture will be nice, it’s such an awesome sight. She turned to ask Alexander to take a shoot of her, but when she turned to share her thoughts, she found him engrossed in his phone, oblivious to the breathtaking view before him.

Jett asked, his tone sharp, defensive. Cross didn’t answer right away. He let out a slow breath, then said the words that made the ground feel like it was slipping from under me. “Wolves are dying.” “Dying?” Talon’s voice was low, but his eyes had gone hard. “How? Is it a plague?" “The same way that boy did,” Cross said grimly. “One by one. Their wolves are collapsing from the inside. And it isn’t stopping here. It’s spreading. Through the pack link." he said before turning to Talon. "It's not a plague. "

Dominic let go like I was nothing, like he hadn’t just nearly crushed my windpipe. I stumbled out, coughing, throat on fire. My knees almost gave out on the gravel, but I caught myself on the edge of the car door. As i staggered up the steps to the house, i heard his voice behind me, already on the phone. “Seraphina,” he said darkly. “Why isn’t the Cross boy dead?” My breath caught. No. “You said this would be clean. You said there would be no witnesses. Was this your idea of a sick joke? Fix it.”

"The coastal station is compromised. There’s an old subway tunnel five miles from here that leads to the 'Dead Zone'—the ruins of the first city. That’s where Life Zero began." ​We ran. ​The five miles felt like five minutes. With the Scythe active, my physical limits were gone. I was a blur of violet light, and Julian—connected to me through the bond—kept pace, his movements fluid and lethal. We were no longer a doctor and a patient; we were two halves of a single, devastating storm. ​We reached the entrance to the "Dead Zone"—a rusted iron gate swallowed by overgrown vines that pulsed with a strange, sickly blue light. This was where the "Modern World" ended and the "Supernatural World" be