Novel & Cerita He Was A Dead Man Walking To His Fate

But how much longer could I hold on? "No," the man said smoothly, walking toward me with slow, deliberate steps that seemed to last an eternity. Each footfall echoed in the cavern like a death knell, marking the seconds I had left. He stopped directly in front of me, looking down like I was nothing more than a bug under his boot… insignificant, disposable, already dead. The contempt in his gaze was almost worse than the physical pain. "You fought back. You proved your value. But now, it's time to collect what's mine."

The calm mask slid off his face and hit the floor beside the broken glass, and what was left looked like war finally remembering its true nature. “Brother,” he said, and it wasn’t a greeting anymore. “you are a dead man walking. But not for long. You will be properly dead after facing the elders. Good luck.” The lion’s grin widened in the firelight. Or maybe that was just the room learning how to show its teeth at the right moment.

Someone replied, his voice soft and hoarse as he spoke. I immediately pressed against the bars of my cell, trying to make out who spoke to me but I could hardly see past the cell next to me. These cages were meant to keep people apart and isolated, and it seemed it had worked for most of these people. Except him. “Who are you?” I asked, desperately searching for that connection. “A dead man walking,” The man chuckled darkly before wheezing heavily, “They tried the silver on me before Derek over there.” “Is your wolf-”

They bowed because the man walking past them looked like someone on his way to his own execution. He didn’t stop for any of them. He didn’t speak. He stepped outside into the cold air again and headed straight to the lead car. Marcello followed him to the door. “Dante,” he said, voice breaking, “whatever happens tonight… please, don’t forget who you used to be.” Dante paused with one hand on the car door. “That man died when they took her.” He got inside. The car started. And the gates opened.

Money always talks and I have more than enough right now. My strength was beginning to ebb; my poundings came at longer intervals; my feet beat the painstakingly slow rhythm of a burial march. I drew in ragged breath after another, inviting the foul fingers back into my throat again and again – a demented adult film of sickening proportions. A squeak from rusty hinges; someone was coming in – or going out, I realized. They were leaving him there to die of hunger and thirst. No! No, no, no, no!

But his lips curled into a bloody, twisted smile as he limped toward me. He wasn’t dead. Even now, even with a wound that should have been fatal, he still wasn’t dead. My heart slammed against my ribs as I took a shaky step back. I could barely stand. My body was spent, my energy drained, and I knew—I knew—I couldn’t defeat him. Not like this. Definitely not alone. His voice was rough, strained, but laced with that same unbearable certainty. “It’s fate,” he rasped. His words were angry, “You were meant to die by my hands.”

Once they got to her stop, they were met with a crowd of people gathered around. "What's going on?" Kylie asked her. "I don't know Ma'am but it's a pretty normal thing here. As she got out of the car walking towards the scenery, a little girl lay dead in the street, she had taken a bullet to the ribs. As she turned around, there was a man who stood in the distance watching everything that went on. He looked familiar but his shades hindered her from figuring out who he was.

I didn’t even want to walk through the front doors. Lyra must have sensed it. She shifted into her full husky size, moving close enough that her fur brushed my hand. Her voice was soft, steady. “Let’s walk together. You don’t have to go anywhere alone.” I gulped and placed my hand on her back. When she started forward, I forced myself to follow, Ryan on my other side like a silent wall. We didn’t stop at the reception. Ryan led me straight to the elevators, his pace firm, his presence grounding. My stomach churned when I realized he was taking me down—down to where the dead were kept.

- He died recently. “He really is a local and died quite recently,” Kim repeated, and stared into the face of the Whistolian with a piercing look of wide-open eyes, he turned pale. “He is not a dead man who crawled out of the ground. And this means that the inhabitants of this city are becoming the same. “I noticed it on the street, when a walking corpse in the form of a guard crept up to us, he looked almost like a living one, only with wounds on his body,” Vic said calmly.

“He’s dead. He wasn’t going to take the easy road. I’m not a bad guy. No, I’m a good guy. People just need to learn to do as they’re told.” He shook his head as though he genuinely believed the nonsense coming out of his mouth. They kept walking as he ranted about how useless the world was how everyone existed only to serve him, how they should all be grateful for his presence. She hated listening to him, but she wasn’t about to point out the obvious flaw in his plan. If he was going to be reborn, it meant he was going to die. His heart would stop. Breath would leave his body. She wasn’t going to save him.