Hinata Death Novels & Stories

The witch told us my older sister would die at sixteen, and her prophecies had never been wrong. From that moment on, my sister became the most important one in the family. The best venison was saved for her. The rare white fox fur was given to her. Every night, our parents told her bedtime stories. I knew she was pitiful, but I still felt hurt and resentful. Then, on the day she turned sixteen, a sharp pain spread through my chest. Afraid I would cause trouble, my parents locked me in the basement. “Mom, please…” I cried, pounding on the door. “I can feel my wolf spirit getting weaker. Let me out…” However, Mom said without hesitation, “No! Today is an important day for your sister. “She only has one day left. Just bear with it…” When I finally closed my eyes and my soul drifted out of my body, I saw the living room filled with warm candlelight. My parents were holding my sister who was alive and well as they cried. Only then did I realize that the witch’s prophecy had never been wrong. The one meant to die was never my sister.

My grandfather, Terry Sims, suffered from bipolar disorder and was prone to anger and mood swings. My mother, Catherine, was his only chill pill. On the day they were hunted down by enemies, my mom went into early labor and lost her life in an attempt to save him. Devastated, my grandfather could not see a way out of his disorder and poured all his love into me. He would pull out the tongues of those who mocked me and fed them to the dogs. The families of those who hurt me would meet their end. It was known to the people of Mistvale that the granddaughter of Terry Sims was untouchable. Due to my congenital heart disease, he reluctantly sent me abroad for medical treatment. After my surgery, I rushed back to his side for his birthday, thinking of giving him a surprise. However, I was mistaken for a gold digger by a carer and locked in the basement. “Of all the things you can do for your age, you throw yourself at men. Since your parents won’t restrain your behavior, I’ll have to do it for them.” She pulled out my tongue, dumped acid all over me, and dug out my snewly transplanted heart to give as a birthday gift to my grandfather, who had been waiting for my return. “Mr. Sims, the skank tried to impersonate Ms. Sims, but I got everything sorted out for you.”

"Miss Elara, this confirms the arrangement for your 'staged death.' In two weeks, at the Luna coronation ceremony, your death will be staged." "You will fall into the rapids, and the cause will be poisoning by wolfsbane." When my Alpha mate, Aiden, abandoned me again for "urgent pack business," I found a rogue on the black market and signed the staged death agreement without a second thought. The entire werewolf world believed Alpha Aiden was madly in love with me. He certainly played the part, never forgetting to kiss my forehead every time he left. But only I knew that for the thirty-ninth time he kissed me, he had also spent the night lost in a drunken haze with that Omega model, Cassia. But none of that mattered anymore. A tainted Alpha, I was done with him. At the coronation he treasured most, I would ensure he received the most perfect corpse.

In the third year after my death, my mother finally remembered me. But it wasn't out of longing—it was because my younger sister's leukemia had relapsed, and she urgently needed a bone marrow transplant. Clutching a donation agreement, my mother made her way to the basement I once lived in. She kicked open the door and was met with a floor slick with blood and scattered medicine bottles. "Cassidy, what game are you playing this time? Do you really think a self-inflicted act of suffering could fool me? Why are you so selfish? Why won't you save your own sister?" Her voice roared with anger, echoing through the space. From the crowd that had gathered to watch, a ragged little boy stepped forward. "Are you talking about Cassidy Porter? She… she died three years ago of organ failure… she vomited so much blood…"

I am diagnosed with severe systemic lupus erythematosus, and I only have three days left to live. When my husband rejects my 188th plea for help, I take my test results and enter the hospice care center. "Hello, I'd like to schedule my own cremation process and apply for government aid." Ten minutes later, they arrive. Before I can speak, my lawyer husband, Jasper Horton, coldly slaps me across the face. "You're faking a terminal illness just to steal attention from Janice?" My doctor brother, Casey Carter, snatches the medical report from my hand and scoffs at it. "Lupus? If you're going to fake being sick, at least make it believable. Only one in a million people gets this." I endure the pain in my body, return to the counter, and hand in the application form and my medical records once more. The staff member sees the butterfly-shaped rash on my wrist and sympathizes with me. "I have no family left," I say. "I'm requesting cremation in three days, location doesn't matter. I just don't want my death to burden anyone."

On the day the SAT scores are released, the reporters track me down, the top scorer of the entire nation, in order to get an interview with me. That's when they find me fishing for a corpse by the river. When the reporters ask me who I'm thankful to the most, my mom, who's allegedly been dead for ten years, makes an appearance. She gets out of the Maybach, looking very high and mighty. "Your dad didn't remarry for ten years, and you've become the top scorer of the nation. As expected, both of you have passed my test." I can only grip my pole while staring at her in confusion. It turns out that ten years ago, Mom's adopted younger brother, Donald Ferguson, suggested to her, "Why don't you fake your death and test your husband's mettle? You should pretend to go bankrupt and jump off a building. If he can stay single for your sake for the next ten years, that should prove that he didn't marry you just for your money." Mom had laughed back then. "When we were still dating, I pretended to be poor for three years. Walter could take five jobs just to put food on the table for me. It's so evident that he loves me to the moon and back. Ten years isn't a problem; heck, he'll definitely remain unmarried for 20 years, or even for the rest of his life!" The fact that I, the top scorer of the nation, am actually the wealthiest woman, Eloise Ferguson's son, gives a huge boost to the shares of her company. The entire nation looks forward to seeing Mom and me hugging each other while bawling at the top of our lungs. Mom looks around her surroundings. "Where's Walter? I'm here to take both of you home with me." "He's dead." The pole in my hands slowly cracks into splinters as I look up at Mom and spit out the answer word by word. "Three years ago, Dad kept working his ass off day and night just to buy the best burial plot for you. That was when he died in this very river."

My father hates my mother for ruining his chance with his first love, and his hatred spills onto me, the unwanted child who carries her blood. I'm 18 when I'm kidnapped. The abductor calls Dad, who is a police officer, and threatens him. Dad thinks I staged the whole thing myself and tells the man to slice me apart if he wants to. The abductor tortures me to death. He even cuts my body into pieces and feeds it to the fish. Only then does Dad lose his mind. He tracks down the abductor and hacks him to death.

Ean's face twisted with anger as he grabbed me by the arm, dragging me toward the old, rusted freezer in the corner of the warehouse. "You're going to feel what Helen felt," he spat. "Maybe that'll teach you not to mess with her." I struggled against him, panic rising in my chest. "Ean, this is insane! It was an accident! Let me explain—" He wasn’t listening. He shoved me inside the freezing metal box and slammed the door shut. The echo of the lock clicking into place made my heart pound in my ears. I banged on the door with my fists. "Ean, please! You can’t do this!" I screamed, but the sound of his footsteps grew fainter as he walked away. He left me with nothing but a single bowl of water, like I was some kind of prisoner. I slumped against the cold metal, shivering. The temperature plummeted almost instantly. The hum of the freezer kicked in, and I realized too late—it wasn’t broken like he thought. It was working, and I was trapped. My body shook uncontrollably as the cold seeped into my bones. I screamed for help until my throat was raw, clawing at the walls in desperation. My bloody handprints smeared across the icy surface, a silent plea for mercy that no one would hear. Seven days passed. When Ean finally returned, the look on his face was one of smug satisfaction. He had expected me to beg, to apologize. But when they pried open the freezer, all they found was my frozen body, stiff and silent, my suffering long over.

In the second year of our marriage, which Brett Mason had secured through relentless means, he brought home his latest conquest—a stunning blonde. As the door swung shut, he ran his fingers through her silky hair, flashing me a smug, triumphant grin. "Wanna join us? You might learn a thing or two about not being such a dead fish." I could still recall how he once adored my hair, claiming that just stroking it would melt away his deepest worries. It turned out any woman could serve that purpose. In that instant, a profound sense of release washed over me. I retrieved the divorce agreement I'd stashed away in a drawer and handed it to him. "Sign it, and I'll make room for her." My days were numbered, and I had no intention of wasting what little time remained entangled in his resentment.

For seven years, I love Cody Rummish, clinging to his promise—once his sister-in-law, Luna Briche, conceives, our ordeal ends, and we finally begin our married life. But reality betrays me. Just months after moving into his home, Cody slips into Luna's bedroom 88 times—starting with once a month, now nearly one or two visits daily. Every night, I sit in the downstairs living room, counting the minutes, clutching a flicker of unrealistic hope. As the sole heir after his twin brother's fatal plane crash, Cody inherits not just power and wealth but also, seamlessly, his brother's widow, Luna. After the 88th visit, Luna announces her pregnancy. But instead of Cody honoring his promise, a public declaration shatters me—he will formally marry Luna. I unravel, demanding answers. Silent, Cody locks me in the bedroom's walk-in closet. "Luna was trapped in an elevator for 30 minutes! She nearly died because of you! Stay here for five days. Feel her fear!" Only on the sixth morning does Cody casually open the door with a chuckle. "Alright, lesson learned. Time to apologize, right?" He finds only the stench of blood and my cold, lifeless body. He's killed the fiancée who's loved him for seven years.