Final Chapter: Walking Tall Novels & Stories

He will have a hard time being gentle. ///♡/// We are only 10+ chapters away from the ending. Stay tuned! Luv y'all ♡

The rhythm of the tango grew faster, shifting from a slow dance into a wild Latin beat. Damian and Scarlett spun through the center of the lounge, bodies pressed close, her short skirt lifting higher with every turn. She was the only she-wolf after six Unclaimed Moons who had broken the rules and still earned a second appearance. If I was cool water, Scarlett was liquor, the fire burning through his blood and tempting him toward the edge. The music stopped abruptly. They looked at each other, breathless, then burst into laughter.

In the end, he bent down and scooped Chloe up into his arms. As he passed by the bodyguards, his voice shook ever so slightly as he ordered, “No matter what, you must get Nora out for me! She hasn’t given Chloe her bone marrow yet. She can’t die!” Outside the hospital emergency room, Elijah and Tyler paced back and forth restlessly. Their phones rang continuously, but they kept cutting the calls. After an agonizingly long wait, several of their men rushed over, completely out of breath. “Mr. York, Mr. Benson… the house… It’s been burned down to nothing but a charred frame. The young miss… Miss Benson, she… All we found is a single, badly burned corpse.”

Half an hour? By now, the fire was raging hotter than ever, and from under the hood came a second muffled explosion. I knew perfectly well this car wouldn’t last ten more minutes. Inside the smoke-filled car, I heard my own hoarse voice saying, “Thomas… you really want me dead?” A light, mocking laugh came through the comms. “One life to secure Mandy’s future. Doesn’t sound like a bad trade, does it? “Come on, pretty racer, the cameras are all on you.”

The Turning Point The last man standing hesitated. Weapon still raised. But his confidence— Gone. “What are you?” he whispered. I tilted my head slightly. Not smiling. Not angry. Just… certain. “You already know.” The End of the Fight He pulled the trigger. Too slow. I moved before the shot even fired. Closed the distance. Disarmed him. And in one clean motion— He hit the ground. Still. Silent. The Aftermath The fire crackled again. The night settled. The chaos— Gone.

In the pitch-dark house, a thin strip of light leaked out from beneath one door. My father went back to his room to pack his things. I walked toward that door. Inside, I heard my mother and Julian talking. "Samantha, it's hard for me to sit in the vice president's seat like this," Julian said. "There'll be dissent, after all—we don't have any official status. I wanted to talk to you… maybe we should just get our marriage certificate."

Midnight in Mayrelle City. Snow filled the sky. I clutched the divorce agreement in my palm and didn't feel cold at all. A message popped up on my phone—from my sister. Just as expected. He had rushed off again to be with her. Maisie: [Adele, your husband and I have run out of condoms. Can you bring some over for us?] Maisie: [Carthorpe Hotel, Room 1206. Make sure they're ultra-thin.]

"The papers were notarized a month ago. I trust there's no more paperwork I have to go through?" "That is all," said the lawyer. A moment of calm later, he added, "Congratulations, Mr. Dyson." I smiled and hung up. Then in silence, I waited until nightfall. … T-minus, three hours. I packed up all my stuff and booked a flight ticket for the next day. … T-minus, two hours. I cut up all the photos that had me and her in it, leaving only me in the picture. T-minus, one hour. I placed the papers on the table, neat and tidy.

"Good." The End

-TRACK 9- TATTERS OF THE KING The old rock star smoked his last cigarette down to the filter and slumped back in his seat. To Miles, he looked like an old worn-out doll, his days of bringing joy to children far behind him. Over the last few hours he’d watched life return to Aidan Cross’s eyes, only to fizzle and fade yet again as the old man recounted his band’s triumphs, failures, and untimely demise. Although he would never admit it to his crew, the story spooked Miles Hargrove to his core. He’d read the official police report from all those years ago, and he’d grown up hearing the rumors of ritual activity on the night of the final show, but to hear a first-hand account by someone who was