Kill Grave Novels & Stories

"Wolfsbane? Sharon, are you insane? You're not allowed to take your own life, you hear me?" His voice faded, growing fainter and fainter, until it disappeared entirely. Samson Holt, may we never see each other ever again.

** **The grave belongs to a woman named Sophia Calloway. **Date of death: three years ago.** **Next of kin listed: Martha Calloway.**

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.

With a swift movement, I peeled off the carbon fiber mask, taking a deep, ragged breath of the bunker's familiar, ozone-scented air. "Fifty million dollars in military-grade tech, completely stripped from Thorne's primary logistics line," Zero said, stepping out from the halo of his server monitors. A slow, rare smirk touched his lips, though his dark eyes remained intensely focused on me. "The underground boards are melting down, Vesper. Everyone is scrambling to figure out who just cut Malakai Thorne's throat in his own harbor."

After a night of emergency treatment, Sam finally pulled through in the ICU. However, the repeated strikes from the con artists had ruptured his spleen completely, forcing the doctors to remove it. The severe burns from the hot incense ash became badly infected, triggering acute kidney failure. For the rest of his life, he would depend on dialysis to survive. His left leg, which had been broken and left untreated for too long, suffered irreversible nerve damage, leaving him permanently disabled. His life was completely ruined.

Chapter 5 “I am Saint and I'm here to hunt you down, but then because I am sure that you can't get off to that body. Death ministry assigns you to be a living reaper, no buts or anything you suicidal. You want your death, right? So then, accept our offer. For you to die peacefully, Mary Sean Ivanovich. Did I answer your question?” With what he said, I gradually loosened my grip on the bedsheet until I finally let go.

"You are an insult to his grave." ​The Echo-Alpha tilted its head, the movement jerky and unnatural. "Graves are just pockets of nutrients we haven't reclaimed yet, Killian Nightshade. You speak of insults while standing in a room built to lobotomize the very ground that feeds you. Look down. Look at the prototype."

His conscience wouldn’t let him. “Yes, I knew her.” He let himself be carried away by his emotion. “We talked for only a few minutes before she was killed.” He noticed Lawrence’s eyes widened at his response. “Before she was killed?” he mouthed in disbelief, taking a moment to draw meaning from that phrase. And just then, Kevin realized he had made a mistake—a costly one at that. “How exactly did she die?” came the inevitable question. The question cut him to the quick, and for a long second, he was awfully quiet. Kevin struggled to collect his wits. “She was disembowelled by T-Murek,” he finally answered, hesitantly.

Create myths. I provide truth. Exact. Detailed. Undeniable. 7:18 AM - Wolf fighter (W-22, name: Sarah Klein). Throat torn by Cormac's enforcer. Bled out in forty seconds. 7:19 AM - Vampire hunter (V-34). Staked by Valentina Corvino. Turned to ash. 7:21 AM - Dragon mercenary (D-03). Holy water attack by Tom Cracksman. Burned from inside. Died screaming.

She had the features that I wanted to see with my mate, but in the wrong position considering that the two of us were theoretically supposed to be against one another. “We’ll talk tomorrow. I need to weigh a few options. We might head to the cemetery as well. Therefore, keep yourself ready for all the options that will come.” I said, and Elena frowned. I knew that she was trying to understand what was going on. But the pictures that she showed me told me that she was right. The grave was not dug out by a normal wolf. These were Lycan claws. And if it were Killian’s grave, then we were in deep trouble.