Hunger Games Reaping Novels & Stories

And right in the middle of it all—he waited. Jax. They called him Reaper—because death followed him like a shadow, a silent, inevitable companion. The kind of man who could kill with a glance and leave no trace but silence and a cold void where a life once was. The instant his eyes, obsidian chips of ice, sliced through the noise and landed on me, the world shrank to that frozen moment. My breath caught, a jagged shard in my throat. I knew—without a doubt—that I was standing in the eye of a storm, and I was the fragile thing about to be torn apart.

I can hear screams from outside the mimicked Realm that Inanna has done. “Don’t give up now...” she whispers again. And I realize that the pain has dulled. Yet, my body is still uncontrollably trembling. I am dying. I know it. My memories are too great that a mere human can’t handle them. No. I was supposed to be reaped long before, but I keep on forgetting things to survive. That’s why when everything is returned, I am dying. No. That is not called reaping. It is merely a transfer of body. I am confused. There are just too many memories that I need to process.

Will she die tonight? Unlike what most mortals believe, I’m not the only reaper walking this world. There are many of us, spread across the earth like silent watchers. Death is constant—every second, someone takes their last breath. But not all of them fall under my charge. I only reap those whose names appear in my book—the appointed souls bound to my hand. I kept checking my note, flicking through its cursed pages, waiting for her name to appear. But it didn’t. Not yet.

She looked great. “Miss Annalise Sanchez.” Scarlett greeted her with a smile. It made me wonder if she knew Annalise from somewhere. Then again, it was possible since she had looked into me and my past. “Scarlett Reid.” They knew each other. I walked around the table. “I guess you two have already met.” “Yes.” Annalise did not take her eyes off Scarlett. “We have.” “That’s good.” I said, and Anna turned to me. “She’ll be replacing Theo.”

LYLA POV Reaper came storming into the living room of our cabin with lethal energy rolling off of him. I looked up from my book and raised an eyebrow. He was drenched from the rain that was now pouring buckets outside. “What is it?” I let out in an annoyed tone. “Oh, don’t you dare use that tone with me Lyla,” Reaper scolded. I rolled my eyes. “Or what?” In inhumane speed, Reaper threw out his hand and wrapped it around my throat before picking my up off the chair by my throat.

When I spat it out, I found two of my teeth lying in my palm. At that moment, I no longer cared about anything else. I hurriedly texted Mirabelle, asking her to come back. … Mirabelle had settled down somewhere and was still live-streaming. The scene of me barging into her room earlier had been broadcast live, and now thousands of viewers were pouring into her stream. "You latecomers just missed it, but the heiress of the Hawthorne family went ballistic over her housekeeper's glow-up." "Are you sure that was Rosetta? She looked nothing like her; she looked more like a middle-aged woman who'd let herself go."

"David, tell every merchant in Business Dev that they need to double their inventory tonight. If anyone goes out of stock, they can forget about ever getting featured again." I sat in the corner and watched them celebrate. Ten minutes to midnight.

The Reaper returns at dawn. I haven't slept. None of us have. We've spent the night in the foundation, planning. Preparing. Panicking quietly. "Training starts now." She announces. No greeting. No warmth. Just business. "You have three months to learn what death itself took eons to master. We begin immediately." "Who are we fighting?" Damon demands. Always the alpha. Always needing control. Always asking the questions that matter. The Reaper's smile turns cold. "Someone you know. Someone Aurora knows very well. Someone who died because of her. Someone who wants revenge so badly they're willing to destroy all of existence to get it."

“He’s Player 09.” He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. “I am the reaper, little ghost,” he whispered. This one single gesture of tucking my hair, and his scary harsh voice, made my knees knock against each other. Instinctively, I took a step backward. Then… if I lost, he would kill me! The bus flashed with warning red lights again, increasing the dose of adrenaline in my blood. [Five…] It started counting. [Four…] Downward.

“Because if Rhett had seen you put a hand on her, you’d already be in the ground. So get up. Get out. And don’t ever come back.” The boy scrambled to his feet, blood dripping, eyes wild. He stumbled toward the door, clutching at his ribs. No one moved to stop him. No one spoke. Because when the Reaper claimed someone, it was final. ________________ Emily stood pressed against the wall, shaking, her wide eyes fixed on the torn cut at her feet. Ghost turned, his pale stare softening as it met hers. “You’re safe here,” he said quietly, gravel deep but steady. “Don’t ever doubt it.”