Novel & Cerita Death's Daughter

He put his head down, and his shoulders slumped as he rubbed his arms and said, “My daughter was sixteen when the Alphas came for her; we never saw her alive again.” I could hear Layla grinding her teeth in anger before she elbowed me on my side and said. “I am sorry for your loss, Mathias.” He smiles sadly at her and says, “Monique said you have two daughters.” Layla chews her bottom lip before answering, “Declan is their father; he killed their mother.” He looks at me, “Your sister?” I nod, “Yes.” He rubs the back of his neck as he says,

Let him feel a fraction of the agony I felt when I buried my daughter’s body. He didn't love me. He loved the idea of me. He loved the obedient, quiet wife who didn't ask questions while he warmed another woman's bed. I clenched my fingers together, digging my nails into my palms until the sharp pain grounded me. I took a slow breath. One. Two. Three. I was Alessia Moretti. A tech genius. I was a mother to a brilliant daughter who was safe at Dante’s side. Isabella Santiago died in a car fire on a cliffside road. She was ash. She was gone.

‎One wrong move and your head might be gifting space in all it's bloodied glory while you watch in high spirits. ‎However, it all added to my plan. I wasn't bought on the lie that my parents were different from how I remembered them to be. They must've killed them for nothing and decided to paint a picture to the public. I was going to get them back for it. Using the leader of Veil, I will hunt down everyone involved in their deaths. Then I'll kill Kiean and his brothers. If I play along, no one would suspect a thing. Death picked the wrong test subject to mess with.

she informs, "Although there's a high chance she died by natural occurrence because there was no evidence of a struggle so we can't really say it's a murder case." It can't be a case of murder. Who would want to kill a woman that hardly steps out of her house except to water her flowers? "Does she not have any other relatives other than her grandson?” My eyes goes back to her porch when they finally wheeled her out into the car. “I don’t think her grandson has his parents around.” This is so awful. <*> "Carajillo, please," I say to the young girl, my acrylic nails drumming against the platinum counter as I wait for my order.

I responded dryly. There really is no honor in death. Fairy tales love to romanticize death. Like somehow, if Cordelia knew we sang songs and danced to the story of her death march, that it would make it all worth it. Who cares if the world changed because you died, your death means you’ll never have an opportunity to see it. Besides, her death meant nothing except to warn other slaves, peasants, and omegas to never dare be mated to someone above your station. This is why so many priestesses come from the lower class. The goddess mated them too far above their station. Their choices are to be killed by their mate, potentially be accepted by their mate, or dedicate their lives to the goddess.

Mom's face went pale. She gripped the mic, her voice shaking. "Wh-What... what is this? Is this donor cadaver really my daughter, Charlotte?" She stared at Elayne, frozen in disbelief. Elayne took a shaky breath. "Yes. The cadaver in front of you... it's Charlotte." The mic slipped from Mom's hand, slamming to the floor with a sharp, earsplitting crack. People in the audience flinched, hands flying to their ears.

Tears were coming again, chocking me in fact. Her loss weighed heavy on us all, something none of us have fully come to terms with. I thought back, I thought again of my daughter, her kindness, selflessness, and love she gave to everybody. In the end, they could not defeat her with dark magic or even with raw power. They used her kindness against her. They used her kind heart, her willingness to put others above herself, above anything really. They used that to kill her, I thought, tears coming again, my heart ready to explode. I asked Father numerous times as to why, and never really got a definitive answer. “It is all for a reason”, was not an answer I understood or wanted to hear even aft

I left the room before my tears could escape as soon as the pack healer informed me of my daughter’s death. I swallowed. Anger and the thirst for vengeance crashed into me, drowning me like a rising tide. My daughter died—without seeing her father. My daughter died not having a hug from her Alpha father. Her final simple request wasn’t even fulfilled. Her birthday party ended with her own death. I glanced back at her bluish-silver dress. She was still wearing her moon tiara even with her last breath. And even with her last breath, Alpha fucking Killian is nowhere to be found.

Her reddish hair glowed like fire beneath the moon, and her eyes — green as a damp forest — were fixed on Dmitry. But it was the silence around them that marked the moment. Everyone felt it. She carried something. Ancient. Divine. The Lycan inside Dmitry howled. He almost fell to his knees, the air fleeing his lungs as if instinct itself had been struck. Not from weakness, but from recognition. She was no longer only the Predestined. She was the daughter of Death. The aura around Susan wavered like heat in the middle of winter. The embers on the altar suddenly blazed. The central Oracle stopped murmuring and fell to his knees.

Then she reached to a guard at her side, drew his gun in one smooth motion, and jammed the barrel against my father’s throat. “Roland DeLuca,” she said, each word clipped and sharp, “I carried my daughter for ten months. I found her again, and on her first day home, your sons nearly killed her.” “If Yvette dies tonight, I’ll bury this whole family with her.” Kane had come down by then, Sofia at his side. The look on his face finally changed. “Mom, are you out of your mind?” he snapped. “You’re pulling a gun on us over some girl you barely know?”