Done And Dusted Audiobook Novels & Stories

Minutes later the jet rose into the air with a faint judder, streaking away from the base and into the early evening sky. They’d reach the target an hour before sunset in that time zone, giving them enough time to get into position and wait. Drone surveillance showed no activity outside the processing plant yet, but that didn’t mean anything about its interior. They’d know more once they landed and Donovan got eyes on the buildings. Halfway to their destination, the director came on the line, his voice snapping crisply over everyone’s encrypted comms. “Base to Alpha Team, we have confirmed Baudin’s death with the CIA. Be advised there most certainly may be a dark mage in the midst.”

It felt like something had shifted, like a glass had shattered and even though the pieces were swept away, you could still hear the shattering sound of it breaking if you listened closely enough. No one said anything. Not even Craig, considering he always had something to say. And that was saying something. I leaned back slightly in my chair, exhaling slowly, only just realizing I had been holding my breath through most of that entire exchange. My fingers still tingled faintly, goosebumps lingering on my skin like a reminder that I had just witnessed something extremely monumental, and phenomenal. “You people can go back to work now,” Lana said, already turning to her laptop like she hadn’t

“Tomorrow, we start the final audit. We’re going to scrub every cent of this empire until it’s so clean it blinds them.” “And after the audit?” I asked, my eyes fluttering shut. “After the audit, we find out what happens when the war actually ends.” I fell asleep to the sound of his heart beating against my ear, a steady, grounding rhythm. But even in the depths of exhaustion, a small voice in the back of my mind was whispering. The war was over, but the silence felt... off. It was too quiet. “Sebastian... wake up,” I whispered hours later, the moonlight now gone and the room bathed in a pre...dawn gray.

The land hissed where blood had soaked too deep; it was as if the world itself rejected what had happened here, refusing even to keep the dead warm. For hours, the wolves had retreated, their line shattered. Ashborn banners, so bright at dawn, now hung limp and scorched. The Dustborn pressed on, relentless, an army trained not to win but to erase. With spell-steel, saltglass, and bone-charms around their throats, they drove hope down into the mud until nothing remained but silence. And then the howl split the air. It was not the cry of a queen. Not the war-shout of a commander. It was something deeper—wordless, raw, the voice of truth breaking free from the weight of centuries. It rose and e

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

She opened an audio file labeled J_Final_Session. A voice filled the room. It was Julian’s voice—thin, strained, but unmistakable. "Ethan, the heart rate is too high. The meds... you're changing the dosage again. I can't think. I can't finish the work if I can't think." And then, Ethan’s voice. Smooth. Professional. Terrifying. "The work is already finished, Julian. You just don't know it yet. The North Star needs a martyr, not a ghost. The world loves a tragedy. And I’m going to give them the greatest one ever told."

"Leave him, Ingrid. You're just his nightmare, his destruction over and over again." "Please .." Tita Lina's last sentiment. With so much desperation and pleading. My body were numb, all of my system. It seems like everyone is harboring pain. I sobbed and tried to calm down the last thing I heard. I am his destruction! Over and over and I find it too sharp. It hurts! And I seem to be overwhelmed to finally let go. Not that I didn't. But there is a part of me that prevents. But I am so exhausted for it! Maybe that's right!

"You're making the biggest mistake of your life, Elisa, and when Damon dies you'll regret not choosing me!" “Just watch, I will definitely make you change your mind!” The warriors finally managed to drag both of them through the doors and their voices faded as they were taken further away. I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths to calm myself before returning my attention to the observation window and Damon's treatment.

At school, I had a nickname. They called me "Mister Wait-Your-Turn." I waited for the sneakers my brother had grown tired of, the backpack my sister thought was ugly, and the phones my parents had already cracked the screens of. Even when it came to taking a shower, I had to wait until everyone else was done. A week ago, Mom had promised me, "On the day of your college entrance exam, you won't have to wait your turn for the shower." So when I finally stumbled into the bathroom, drenched in sweat and smelling awful, I thought my turn had finally come. I was halfway through working up a lather when someone started pounding on the door. "Come out. Let your brother go in." My eyes stung,

Vincent staggered into the estate. The place was dead—shadows thick, air heavy. He dragged himself down into the cellar. The stench of blood and rot smacked him in the face. Where Avila had once been, nothing. Just black stains burned into stone. He crumpled, clawing at the floor like he could pull her back from it. "Avila... Avila, where are you... come out... I was wrong... I was so damn wrong..." His screams ripped through the emptiness, wild and broken.