Jack Carr Only The Dead Novels & Stories

Her knuckles turned white. They were all there waiting for her. Mama Metcalf and her busted open head, dripping gray matter down the folds of her scrubs. Jordan’s face over her shoulder, his dimples as prominent in death as they were in life. The thing that used to be Robby slithered at their feet, its wide toothy smile was just for her. Mykel lurched across the lot in blind arcs, spurting gore as he went from where his head and spine were not so long ago housed. Her parents were there too, each with their matching heart-attack guts swinging before them, stinking of the earth they were buried in. They weren’t alone. The knockers at her door were there by the thousands, dribbling over one ano

Until death, chapter 23 Theme: The Jungle Fury Part 2 The processor quickly directed the frost orb to the left, and a glaze rod whooshed past our heads. The great cries of about a hundred men were now coming closer. They were riding a skateboard, which I guess was formed from ice. They had black armour and a hood was covering their faces. "Who are they?" I asked the processor "They are the reaper's combatants," she answered, then quickly bent low as another sharp, smothered rock flew past our faces. "It means he has found a way to locate us." She explained.

Richard looked at me and cursed. "You both fucked up bad, Death is back and I suggest you fucking run," he yelled and ran back to his bedroom. I closed my eyes as the heartache consumed me and strode out the deck doors, heading out towards the beach. I ignored the yelling from Miguel. I only briefly saw him stand and that little prick falling to the floor. My darkness was expanding and twirling around me. A tall polynesian man threw a burlap tarp over me and said not to fight him, that he was Death's caretaker and would take me somewhere safe. Very well, I growled and allowed myself to be carried away. I felt the wood beneath my bare feet and the movement of the water further underneath. I w

His eyelids were twitching constantly, but even so, he remained completely motionless inside the coffin. I couldn't help but wonder if Mom and Dad, who were lying next to him and faking their deaths as well, would become so enraged that they would sit up. After all, they were hearing their worthless daughter slap their precious son. In the meantime, the onlookers, who were shocked by my reaction, quickly stepped in to hold me back. I took the opportunity to bury my face in Lucy Hall's, my neighbor's, shoulder. "Why did I have to be the one left alive, Lucy? Mom and Dad are gone, and Draco is dead, too. How did the Lancaster family—?"

Ella Pezzano died in the flames at Costa Estate. The woman standing here was Luna Kane, heir to the Kane family. No one would ever hurt me again. Three days later, the yacht reached Norvale Port. Our car rolled into the wealthy district downtown. Through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse, the bustling night view of all of Norvale stretched out before us. I stood by the window, gazing at the glittering lights, but I felt nothing. … Third-person POV Back at Costa Estate, Vincenzo had already begun his retaliation against the Camorra family.

After the successful completion of a mission, Connor Weston, the youngest patrol division captain of the pack, had fallen into an eternal sleep on that rainy day. … After his death, my soul began to dissipate, like dew evaporating into the air under the morning sun. In my final glimpse, I saw Chris rush into the infirmary. He then fell to his knees and clutched Connor's hand, his shoulders trembling violently. Later, I saw Connor buried beside my grave. Our two tombstones stood close together, as they were always meant to be. I witnessed many pack members come to pay their respects, saying things like, "It was such a shame for a hero like him to die so young."

“You’re trembling like pups waiting for scraps.” One elder—a fat man with sweat glistening on his brow—cleared his throat. “M-my Alpha… what brings you such joy?” Carlo’s lips curled. “Alpha Kadel of Crestmoon… is dead.” For a second, silence. Then—Gasps. Wide eyes. Shock rippled through the room. “Dead?” one elder whispered. “Impossible—he was strong—” But then Carlo chuckled again, slow and dark. And just like that, the shock broke.

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.