Jonathan Brandis Last Words Novels & Stories

“Brandon?” Through shallow, panicked breaths, Brandon spilled out the whole story. His voice trembled, stammering as he struggled to get the words out. “Britney, I… I messed up. Henry’s dead. I—oh God—I didn’t mean to, but he’s dead, and I… I don’t know what to do.” On the other end, Britney was silent for a moment. When she finally spoke, her voice was calm, too calm. “Brandon, slow down. Take a breath.”

” she asked shakily. “I’m going to die soon. The doctor told me this morning that I wouldn’t last today but I had to see Anna win the championship” Jonathan said turning to meet Sia’s eyes. “She’s so brave just like you” he muttered coughing out more blood as her mother held him closer. “No, no, no, no” she cried. “Anna, I know I am not fit to be your father, I don’t deserve it. Take care of your mother” he said and Sia realized that tears were running down her cheeks.

He embraced the pain, hoping for death. Her voice was exasperated, "What are you doing Brandt? Do you really think I would let you die? Even across an ocean, I can feel the turmoil in your stupid brain. You were once my lover and are now my friend. I'm not willing to lose you this way." He heard soft footsteps approach and felt her strong arms lift him slightly. His world went black but his last thought was that death would not be his today, maybe tomorrow. ***

“How did it go? I’m assuming well, considering no one’s bleeding.” “Better than well,” I say as I adjust my footing on the floor. “Jonathan Vize is dead.” Gasps ripple around the room. “And his son Elijah is her mate too,” Jordan pipes in, already lounging in a chair he didn’t earn, his muddy boots kicked up on a nearby stool like he didn’t just stomp on someone’s croissant. A stunned silence settles over the table. Then Nanna slowly sits down, rubbing her temples. “I’m going to need stronger tea for this.”

Now that everything was out in the open, there was no need to pretend anymore. "I don’t have the money. And I don’t want treatment." I looked at him calmly. "Even if I survive it, it’ll just be more suffering. I’d rather end it sooner." Jonathan fell silent for a long time. "You saw the bottle in the study trash, didn’t you?" he suddenly asked. I didn’t deny it. "Yeah. I saw it. That’s medication for the dying." He let out a self-deprecating laugh. "I’m a dying man too."

“Did you find out who contracted him to silence the couple?” Brandon shook his head. “The moment he wanted to say the name, he died. I felt a dark magic presence surrounding his corpse. My best guess is someone was watching him for a very long time.” “What about Jazmine’s parents? Where are they now?” “I have no idea. It seemed like they fell from the face of Earth.” Liam groaned. “Zidane investigated my request.” He told Brandon everything that Zidane told him. By the time he finished talking, Liam had noticed a car parking a few slots away from his car. But nobody left the car. Brandon noticed the same thing as they waited for someone to leave the car.

But the word remained, dripping down the glass in slow red rivulets that definitely hadn’t been condensation. Elias-9 stared at it, chest heaving. “Tell me you saw that,” he rasped. Mara couldn’t speak. Because written beneath POMEGRANATE in the same blood-red script were four more words she never thought she’d see again, in handwriting she’d know anywhere: I never left, Red.

"Before one of your tiny little surgeries, Joshua, a grown man, went all the way to a chapel just to pray for your safety." His eyes reddened further. "So I thought, since that was his last wish before he died, then as his right-hand man…" Brandon's voice cracked. "I should at least help him fulfill it." Samantha winced as she touched her swollen cheek, tears streaming from her wide eyes. "Brandon, what are you talking about?" she whispered. "Why can't I understand a word you're saying?" "I said…" Brandon drew in a sharp breath, like the pain in his chest had become too much to bear. "Joshua is dead, and it's because of you."

Instead, he looked over her shoulder, where Williams, Alex, and Grace hovered just behind. “We can’t talk here,” Jonathan said, his voice low, urgent. “There are eyes everywhere.” Freda’s heart pounded, caught between disbelief and instinctive trust. She stepped forward. “Where have you been? Why—why now? And what do you mean Cassian’s not dead?” Jonathan’s gaze hardened. “Because he never died in that fire. It was staged.” Freda sat across from her father in a cold, concrete-walled room beneath one of the original Harrington estates—a place so off-grid it didn’t exist in any legal registry.

Emelda's POV The silence in the room grew heavier, my heart skipped as I realized what had happened. "Time of death," Dr. Anderson announced, his voice somber and resigned as he pronounced the final words. He switched his gaze for a moment from the doctor's to us and then back to Jonathan's body, his eyes sad and sympathetic as he looked at the body, his gaze filled with sorrow as he continued. "9:00 PM.” I gasped, placing my hands over my mouth as my mind reeled and struggled to process the loss, my breath catching in my throat as I fought to hold back the tears.