Dying Broke Book Novels & Stories

I walked away before they could see the cracks in my armor, before they could witness my complete and utter unraveling. Because if I stayed....if I allowed myself to be held by their pity, to be soothed by their love....I would break apart completely. And Daxon Bronx didn't break. He burned.

“I will not pay for your life with your death.” Liolai nodded slowly. “But then the story takes you.” The air thickened, The circle of memory began to collapse in on itself, each memory crumbling like ash. The forest faded. The cliffs dimmed. The crown she once wore dissolved into dust. Kael tried again to reach them. Failed again, He shouted, “There has to be another way!” But the Author only turned the pages of the book. Slowly. One at a time. Each page now bore Liora’s face, Dying, Again, And again, And again, Each version a little different. Some ended in fire. Others in betrayal. Some simply… stopped.

She didn't even want to imagine. As her eyes drooped in misery, she gave in to the ennui that had been nipping at her heels for longer than she cared to remember. She sniffled and curled into herself in sorrow as she asked herself how long she would feel like this, so alone, so completely broken. But there were no answers, only a deep void of nothing. A black hole that waited to suck her in if she let it.

Damian locked himself in his study, never leaving its confines. He had completely abandoned all resistance. Day after day, night after night, he drowned himself in liquor. The once-proud Alpha of the Blackrock pack had become a hollow shell, a drunk staggering through the ruins of his own life. His wolf had grown so weak it could only let out faint, desperate cries. Meanwhile, the Bloodfang pack's army had massed at the borders. War had erupted. The Blackrock pack, leaderless and disoriented, crumbled.

"I won't make the same mistakes again. I promise you." It seemed like the first time in my life I had seen her cry like this. If this had happened before, maybe I would have cared. But not anymore. I quietly stepped back to put distance between us. My voice was indifferent. "What's done is done. Just sign the divorce papers as soon as possible." Perhaps because I was too cold, Scarlett cried even harder. "No. I won't sign." "Whether you sign or not doesn't matter to me anymore." I pointed to my chest. "This is dead. It won't beat for you again.

It wasn't until today that they finally managed to set aside some time to grab a meal with Trevor and the others—to relax and catch up. Wynn was reading a book. Taking a sip of her drink, Jordyn glanced at the cover of the book out of boredom. It looked familiar, catching her attention enough for her to take another look. Then, Beck asked, "Are you interested in the book, Jo?" Jordyn shook her head. "No, I just realized Mom has the same book." Upon hearing what Jordyn had just said, Wynn stilled for a moment as a subtle smile played on her lips.

Christopher took a deep breath. "And our competitors were trying to take us down. Charlie and I were working our butts off, and we broke our bodies thanks to that. You ladies ignored us when we came to you. And you were flirting with those men. Unbelievable." I was already close to forgiving Christopher. "Well, you didn't tell us you guys booked a room." "And risk you escaping me again? Charlie even gave you guys 15 million in case you ran out of money. You ladies didn't notice that?"

Are you sure I can revive her completely, because I am smelling something pretty rotten," I mumbled sourly and covered my nose. He glared at me and entered the hut. He walked back out and tossed me a small book. "Read that first, while I gather the herbs we'll need," he said softly and headed into the greenery still naked. I opened the tiny book and was surprised by seeing sanskrit. It had been a very long time since I'd read the ancient script but it was coming back to me. I had to focus my light on the being I was wanting to bring back. I also had to offer a promise or gift to the Death God holding the soul, normally the one requesting the revival was the one responsible for payment. So Uk

Danica POV Dmitry wasn’t lying when he said he would be in late. When I came home last night, the house was empty. I placed the envelope full of money on his dresser. He’d given me enough money for a life time. I hated taking charity from anyone, but Dmitry made it hard to say no. He swopped in at all the right times. Exactly when I needed him. I showered, washed my hair, and pulled out a small book I borrowed from the school library a few weeks ago.

The name of the girl who had died in a cramped apartment with a phone in her hand, reading a w******l. I stared at Michael, my heart hammering against my ribs so hard it felt like it was going to break through. He knew. He was like me. He was tracking the serial lines in his head, still waiting for some magical chapter break where the author had promised a heroic turnaround for the side characters. But there was no text left. The author wasn't coming to save us. The story had run straight into the wall of a brutal winter, and we were just the garbage left behind.