"in Death" J.d. Robb Novels & Stories

I don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.

They couldn't have been more than fifteen years of age and were both intelligent looking. "We are the new fates, brothers Jackson and Nowell and you two are Rai, the Grim Reaper and Sebastian, a Death & Life soul cultivator, it's a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Jackson stated and presented his open hand to us as he stepped closer. Rai shook it first and said we needed to clean up the mess. "We will deal with it, you both enjoy your newly engaged selves," Jackson grinned. We both thanked them profusely and stood back as they waved their hands over the corpses and the bodies and blood all vanished.

“Yes.” “They’re probably memories then. Tell me. Please. How did he die?” When I opened my mouth to protest, she cut in. “In Urban’s dreams, then? How does he die in Urban’s dreams?” “There was a war,” I said softly. “There was fighting all around at the edge of an open field where a forest started. He—Jazon—was sitting upright and leaning back against the trunk of a tree, his chest torn open, and blood mixing with the tattered chain mail that hung off his shoulders.”

Robert himself might not have expected to die so suddenly because he looked confused. Ruben’s face immediately darkened. Even though he was under his protection, Robert was dead. He had lost the bet. This infuriated Ruben. The snipers lying in wait were stunned. They were armed with all sorts of modern weaponry, but they did not pose a threat to Dustin and could only watch him kill Robert. What exactly was Dustin? A monster? He was a mere mortal, but he was so fast that the snipers could not see him. The entire area fell silent. The atmosphere was gloomy.

Jeremiah suggested. Tobias agreed and they both returned to the crime scene where Joseph and the rest of the priests were waiting. Yes, Rosalinda Rosewood was found dead inside the woods early this morning and the mystery behind her death was finally revealed. It turned out it was another white priest who killed her and now, it was up to Jeremiah to find out who was the real killer because if he did not act soon, another death would surely appear. ***

He demanded. "Her,” Maverick corrected sharply. “Her name is Diana.” “It talks.” “Of course I talk!” I snapped. Nicholai shot me a glare before turning back to Maverick. “Please tell me you plan on killing it, brother.” Brother. The word confirmed what I already suspected. “And why on earth would I kill my mate?” Maverick’s voice was low. I watched the color drain from Nicholai’s face. “Please tell me this is some kind of cruel joke,” Nicholai said with a dry laugh.

He shook his head. “I’m sorry,” he said. A pause. “He’s gone.” The words echoed. Lisha didn’t move. Didn’t react. Just stared. Ethan Cross— The man who controlled everything. The man who feared nothing. Was dead. Just like that. And in that moment no one noticed the glass of wine still trembling slightly in Lisha’s hand or the quiet storm behind her eyes. Because while the world saw shock Lisha felt something else entirely.

It was really her. I wanted to respond, to scream, to curse her, but my body was already dead. No sound came out. Only my consciousness remained, drifting in the frozen air as it watched the curled body in the corner. The skin of my corpse was darkened purple, with a thin layer of frost covering my lashes, and my hand curled tightly as though clutching something valuable. I knew what was in that hand. It no longer mattered. Outside the iron door, the sound of high heels faded away once more. At 25, I died there.

“What kind of news?” “It’s about his old man.” He hesitated, like he was choosing his words carefully and that got my attention instantly. “What about him?” I straightened up. “He’s gone, Luca. They found him dead five nights ago.” Rob exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. The words hit like a punch to the chest and for a second, I thought I’d misheard. “What? Dead? How?” “Gang clash,” Rob said quietly. “One of those ugly ones, I heard it from someone in Paris who’s close to the scene.”