Greed Island Novels & Stories

Not nightmares of Michael—but dreams as Michael. He'd wake up with his hands around imaginary throats, his voice rasping orders in a cadence that wasn't his own. Commands issued with the casual cruelty of a man who had never seen other human beings as anything more than variables in an equation. "Liquidate the pension fund. Those teachers won't need retirement if they're not breathing." The words would spill from his lips before he fully understood what he was saying. The island stronghold—a repurposed oil platform in international waters that Maria had converted into their base of operations—offered the isolation Griffin needed to wrestle with what was happening to him. But isolation also m

Ivory wondered, looking at the small mass of land that stood a couple of meters away from them. It wasn't really an island, it was more like, a piece of soil, looking as deserted as the Sahara desert, safe for the fact that there were lush trees everywhere, and the thought that it was going to be their safe haven was quite disturbing, but not more than the fact that they had clearly drifted, perhaps away from civilization. Ivory was sure about it. They weren't in the city anymore. "Come," Gadreel said and began pulling her, heading towards the island.

“Ghulik understands, Master. But Ghulik is already hungry, Master.” Czarina’s indigo eyes lit up. “Come on, Ghulik. I’m going to feed you your favorite.” The goblin snorted. “If that is another rat, Ghulik will be angry with Young Mistress.” Their daughter only laughed harder, and Araheen smiled. They locked up the studio and walked toward the harbor, where they boarded the boat Gildeon had bought years earlier. They used it to reach a private island they had also purchased—a place they could retreat to whenever they wanted somewhere secluded, far from human eyes that might witness strange things.

The night air carried a chill that penetrated through the glass of the suite windows as Isla stood watching the scene below. Despite Liam's insistence that she rest—his concern for her "condition" both touching and slightly frustrating—she found herself drawn to the panoramic view of the beach where the pack had gathered. The private island that had seemed like merely a luxurious wedding venue now revealed itself as something far more significant: a sanctuary, a stronghold, a place of power for the Lockwood pack.

The moment she saw the phone in his hand and the look on his face, all the color drained from hers. "Keith… You… Let me explain…" He was not listening. All he knew was that he had been played. He grabbed her by the throat and slammed her against the wall, his eyes bloodshot. "Whose child is it?" he demanded, each word squeezed out through clenched teeth. Caroline was terrified out of her mind. She struggled desperately, but under the fear of suffocation, she finally broke. "I-it's Mr. Walker's. I-I thought you couldn't have children… I just wanted someone to rely on…"

By the time the frost came, no one would know that a wealthy American had bought a private island in the Gulf of Mexico. Standing on the helicopter landing pad, looking out across the endless blue water, Clara felt something she hadn't felt in months: hope. The island was her dream sanctuary—a place where she could build a new life far from the frozen wasteland the world would become. The bunkers in the mountains and the desert were for survival. The island was for living.

To demolish it and take back the raw materials used was as ridiculous as making a fake one-dollar bill from an actual hundred-dollar bill. That was why if word of what happened in Randheli spread, the island would virtually lose all its value. Even if they dropped their set prices to attract customers who didn't mind the terror incident, the profit margin would still have dropped considerably. That was why it was no different from handing off trash—even if Bernard had tried to make it look like he was handing Charlie treasure, Charlie was just smart enough to discern the variables involved. Hence, Bernard grit his teeth and promptly added, "That reminds me, Mr. Wade! There's another seven-st

Sloth, another man, his eyes struggling to stay open, draped in dirty clothes, dirty bedding, the floor around him piled with rotting rubbish, he was drowning in split bin bags, rubbish building up around him. Greed: this time, it was a woman, spinning around and grabbing at all the glittering jewellery piled on the shelves near her. At her feet, confused, crying and clearly neglected, her two children were clinging to her skirt, their small hands lifted to her, begging for her attention, but she ignored them, continuing to reach for things she never got a hold of.

"Hm, so the player has overstepped her bounds, leaving her charge to Sloth was a bad idea... What kind of person is Greed?" "I mostly hear about him from nobles wanting to follow him, he is a very talented man, he seems to care about the people in a team from the Southern Guild, and he is also very protective of a Baron's daughter, so if you want to control him... And from the power I've seen and his academic rank, I'd say Greed hasn't fully awakened yet." "I see... Greed has appeared, so there are 7 of us now... Hmm..." "My Queen, are you worried about the Twilight of the Gods?"

"Boy, she's almost 500 years old..." "She... what?" "Don't ask her for the exact number if you love your life, hahaha!" Ignis fumed. "I don't care about that long-eared woman's age. I want to know her reason." Sickle Island was, for Ignis, unlike any other place. The island was perfect. One would not run out of plants to gather and fish to hunt for food. The island also had a beautiful sandy beach, and it was where Ignis used to hang out when he got nothing to do. The water was also so crystal clear, some days it appeared as if it had vanished.