Death's Obsession Audiobook Mga Nobela at Kwento

I then leaned my back with my head up to the ceiling while massaging the bridge of my nose and catching my breath. After calming down enough, I then said, "One of them died and the other remained silent." "..." "Even if he does talk, he just talks nonsense like the glory of humanity, sacrifice, or nonsensical things ..." "..." "He seems like someone high on cocaine," I said in frustration and then snorted. "..." "Hahh ... this is really driving me crazy," I said again in depression. "Huh? Are you sure he said that?" Owen asked, "That's weird."

“I stopped running when I found you.” “Then what is this?” I gestured at the fire outside, the bodies, the red reflection in his eyes. “Because this isn’t love. This is obsession with a corpse.” His expression cracked. “You think I don’t know that?” I took a step closer, heart hammering. “Then why do it?” “Because when they took you,” he said, voice breaking, “I saw it happen again.” “What?” “You dying.” He clenched his jaw, trembling. “It was the same scream. The same blood. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t lose you again.”

Death in the form of a man. Jess.

The night was deepening, and the final movement of their orchestrated corruption was yet to come. "Beautiful," he murmured to himself, the crackle of the fire and the chorus of their suffering music to his ears. "Simply beautiful." —— The dull, bruised light of dawn started to seep through the heavy curtains of the library, casting the room in shades of gray and gold. The fire had burned out hours ago. The room was cold, the air thick with the leftovers of the long night: sex, sweat, tears, burnt skin, and a strange new scent, the metallic smell of complete surrender.

"You two should be more cautious of where you ramble those mouths of yours." ‎ ‎At that moment, as I trained my gaze on the shadow silhouette belonging to the man looming over me, on the floor and speaking down on the top of my head, I thought I might actually be dead. ‎ ‎"You don't know just what kind of bird might be listening in." ‎ ‎I drowned down a painful ball of saliva as my heart boomed in my ears mercilessly. ‎ ‎"Oh? This bird has a torn wing already.” ‎

I could see the shallow lift and dip of his chest through my now blurry vision, each breath so slight I had to focus to make sure he was still breathing at all. My ears still worked though, as I heard my uncle continue talking, his voice drifting through the space like poison. And then my mind went to Duke, to the way he'd disappeared so suddenly from the base. Like something had snapped into place in my uncle's brain at the exact same moment it had in mine, he looked at me and laughed, the sound rich with dark amusement. "It was such a displeasure killing the librarian though," his tongue clicked against the roof of his mouth, the sound echoing throughout the room. "He was a fool to think h

I try to speak, but all I hear is a high-pitched whine followed by a fit of coughing. Is this what death feels like? Perhaps. Dim light floods my vision, and I'm back in Dominic's room. He's straddling me, hands around my throat. The room is too dark to make out his features properly, but his scent is the only thing I can smell. His weight presses me down, sinking me deeper into the mattress. How long has this been going on?

Emily scolded. After minutes of climbing the team of four finally reached underground. Chambers broke the descent, flashes of painted walls catching their light. First—bright colors: gods crowned in gold, kings lifted in triumph. Then darker—angels turning away, mortals bound in chains, eyes painted so sharply they seemed alive. The beauty bled into menace with every step. "Damn," Caleb exclaimed, staring at the walls. "They even inscribed death spells on the walls" Emily whispered. "Death spells?" Eric muttered, his voice bouncing off the stone. "That's comforting."

He opened it and pulled out a rolled up newspaper and a single white rose attached to it. “Hey, look what came to the office today,” he said with a winning smile. Sierra approached the bed and took the newspaper. She unrolled it and read the article that was circled in black marker. It was an obituary for Colton Anderson Rhodes. He was twenty four when he died at a hospital in Versailles, France. “He’s… dead?” her voice cracked involuntarily. “Dead and defeated,” Raphael laughed and picked up the white rose. “This is a sign. Now that they don’t have a leader anymore, his family’s asking for a truce,”

I tried to crawl over and pull her down, but a bullet struck right between her eyes and I watched as she fell to the ground, dead. “Shit! Shit!!” Dante cursed. The shots stopped after a while and we heard the roar of car’s engine outside the workshop. “How the fuck did a car get here?” Dante sneaked up to the door to check when I heard noises coming from Pierre. “He is still alive.” I crawled to Pierre who tried to speak as blood spurt from his mouth. “I … I … told you,” He choked out. “The dark one… he is always watching.” His eyes closed as he took his last breath.