Din Djarin Death Novels & Stories

Nisha is a normal nineteen-year-old college girl and lives ordinary. But things started to take a turn for the worse when her classmate, Max Stuart, suicide in a gloomy room Everything shows that he killed himself but she knew is impossible. Most surprising, Max showed up in Nisha’s room as a spirit and she’s the only one who can see him and hear from him. Nisha has no choice but to help him. However, in the process of searching for the truth, their feelings gradually warm up, but the closer to the truth is more close to parting, where will they go eventually?

After Roman Archer and I broke up, he devoted himself to academic research. He had finally become successful. During a television interview, he looked just as confident and high-spirited as he had been back then. The host asked whom he most wanted to share this news with. After a brief silence, he called me. “Celeste, thank you for leaving me. My career is thriving now.” I smiled. “Congratulations, Mr. Roman.” He would never know that if I had not left, he would have died.

Aricka Evangelista, a red-haired girl with a pair of pitch-black eyes, never knew that one day she'll be chased to death by something that kills and possesses the body of those who have seen a certain book, the Death of God. The book contains secrets of the light and the dark and according to the myth, everyone who touched and read it will be taken by an unknown force and their body will be used to also kill others who will next take possession of the book. The more she runs, the more people are affected, and the more they chase her, the more she discovers.

I ran into my boss when I was complaining to my best friend about how he actively made the workplace hostile for me. He fired off a barrage of questions, "Where's the annual report? Where's the script for the speech? I can't believe you have the gall to enjoy a meal when you have a mountain of work to do!" That was it. I slammed the table. "It's due tomorrow! What's the rush? Are you going to hold a funeral for yourself tomorrow?" My boss stormed off in a huff. I asked for the bill, but the waiter came with two. My table came up to 60 dollars, but the other ran up to 3,750. "Your boyfriend said you're paying for both. Cash or credit, miss?" Shawn Goodall put that impossible bill on my tab and called himself my boyfriend? Unbelievable! I called him, utterly incensed. Yet, he had the gall to say, "Get the receipt and claim it from finance." Then, he hung up. The waiter was going to call the cops if I didn't pay up, so I had no choice but to accept this bitter defeat. I was trying to claim the money the next day, but the cops arrested me instead. "Shawn Goodall died at midnight and was found in his house. You're his girlfriend and the last person he met. You're coming with us."

Lauren takes off her sunglasses at her own funeral... "Guess he really did wish me dead." cuz her Alpha ex husband isn't there Lauren was heartbroken and left the pack, but actually Alpha is searching for her like crazy. When she came back with her daughter, he would never give her another chance to leave him.

When your billionaire alpha 🐺 only married you for duty, you rejected him and left for good by faking your death When you meet again, his eyes on 🔥. He wants to devour you. But he's interrupted. “Mommy who’s that?” "A stranger." “Say that again? Who am I to her?!”

“Don’t tease me again, or else you really want it. There are no safe words in my bed.” He is rumored to know a thousand ways to disarm and pleasure a woman, and I am Olivia, the nymphomaniac. In a quest for revenge against my childhood bullies, I got locked into an unhappy marriage, with an untamed brother-in-law. Colt Fletcher, the morally-grey, rebel biker is ever excited by danger and prefers life on the edge. And from the moment he laid eyes on me, I became his forbidden want. I should know better, to steer clear of deadly desires like these but when fate forces us to live under the same roof, share the same boardroom, and every accidental touch burns, my resolve begins to collapse. But scandals don’t stay buried, and my husband is the devil. The price of this betrayal is death. I must choose between my husband who owns my name, and his brother who owns my body.

My husband was on a business trip when his plane crashed, leaving a final message. He said he didn’t want to hold me back and wanted me to terminate the pregnancy and start over. I couldn’t stop crying. That’s when I heard my son’s voice from inside me. “Mom, stop crying. Dad isn’t dead at all. “He’s just scum. Behind your back, he’s running off with his true love. They’ve eloped abroad for their honeymoon. “I know where his little stash is. While he’s not back yet, let’s grab the money and disappear. We’re set for life!”

In the third year after my death, the one who remained faithfully by my wife's side was still the bionic robot I had painstakingly designed. It looked exactly like me and carried within it every detail of my mannerisms, speech, and habits. The only difference was that it never lost its temper with her. Because of that, my wife never sensed anything amiss. Yet each night, she brought home a different man, deliberately testing "me," desperate to see the wild jealousy and rage I once wore so vividly. Then, one day, her childhood sweetheart and first love, shoved "me" off the balcony. It was only then, in her horror, that my wife realized… "I" didn't bleed.

One day, shortly after I had experienced a miscarriage, Alan brought me a bowl of chicken soup—and a divorce agreement. "Sophia's pregnant," he had said. "So let's just leave each other like mature adults do." Chicken soup had never tasted so bitter in my life. I knew Sophia Mason—he had sponsored her education before. She was also the one who caused my miscarriage. I did not cry. I did not throw a fit. I just asked why. He looked relieved. Then, he looked at me blankly. "The truth is I can't stand you over these seven years. Every time we lie together on our bed, I just can't help but be disgusted by what your body has gone through. "I know you suffered that because of me. But I can't do it. I can't stop remembering how defiled it is. "Our kid is gone. We owe each other nothing now—so let's end it here, right now." So that was it, huh? Hilarious. He had no idea who the "defiled" one was—him. Seven years ago, I inserted a memory chip into his brain to save him. And now, in three days' time, the chip will cease to function. He will remember everything… and he will wish he were long dead.