Killed Jon Snow Novels & Stories

Aire was a survivor—until the person she trusted most turned her into a memory. Betrayed and left for dead in the cold shadows of the city’s underworld, Aire’s story should have ended there. Instead, she wakes up years later in a world that has moved on without her. With her memories returning in jagged, painful flashes, Aire realizes she’s been given the ultimate second chance. But the streets are meaner now, and her killer, Trevon, is sitting on the throne she helped him build. To take him down, she’ll have to navigate a landscape of shadows and secrets, catching the eye of Dee—a hood billionaire whose heart is as cold as the diamond district he runs. Dee doesn't do love, and Aire doesn't do trust. But as their worlds collide, they realize that in a city built on lies, their fire might be the only thing that's real. This time, Aire isn’t just playing the game—she’s rewriting the rules.

On the road, I met a woman unlike anyone I had ever seen before. Her name was Janet Smith. She seemed slow and almost childlike, yet she had been wandering alone for two years without ever going home. Even with one leg crippled, she had forced herself to climb the Highveil Mountains. This time, however, she was caught in a blizzard. Injured and stranded, she could no longer make her way down. As her vision blurred and her strength slipped away, tears covered her face. She placed a pair of small handmade clay dolls in my hands. "I'm probably going to die here," she murmured. "Please give these to my adoptive brother, Chester Graham." She was clearly at death's door, yet her smile was soft and unexpectedly serene. "Tell him I've seen enough of the world. I don't love him anymore. And tell him he doesn't need to worry. I'm not so foolish now. I won't cause trouble for anyone again." Chester? At the sound of his name, I stood rooted to the spot. In Riverton City, everyone who worked at the harbor knew him, the so-called Ship King. Right before I left for the mountains, news of his engagement had been everywhere.

My husband forced me into labor the same day his widowed sister-in-law went into labor. I was only seven months pregnant when he dragged me to the hospital and demanded that the doctors induce me. Eugene Cobb locked me inside the delivery room, his expression tense and urgent. "The baby Fiona's carrying has a rare disease. The doctors say he'll die as soon as he's born. They need umbilical cord blood and special stem cells during delivery to save him! My brother's already gone. It's my responsibility to take care of her and her child." A four-inch-long induction needle pierced into my body. Violent contractions crashed through me, cold sweat soaking my back. I said weakly, "Fiona's pregnancy has been perfectly healthy. How could the baby suddenly have a rare disease? And my pregnancy is high-risk. The doctor said I need to carry to term. If you force an early birth, you'll kill both our baby and me!" Eugene frowned slightly and pinned me firmly to the hospital bed. "The doctor already explained everything. The baby just needs to be born two months early. Nothing will happen." As Fiona Smith's screams rang out from the delivery room next door, something seemed to occur to him. "You're not trying to get rid of Fiona because I've been taking care of her all the time, are you? I told you a long time ago I'm only helping her because she's my sister-in-law. How can you be so vicious?" I stared at the blood spreading beneath me and begged through tears. As long as he spared the child, I was willing to divorce him and give them my place. Eugene's eyes filled with impatience. "What are you talking about? I'm the baby's father. Why would I harm my own child?" My umbilical cord blood and stem cells were finally used on Fiona's baby. Both mother and child were declared safe. Only then did Eugene finally remember us. But when he arrived at the hospital room, the only thing waiting for him was an empty bed.

They called me a murderer. An Omega. A nobody. A girl whose life was worth less than the weakest Alpha's pride. At Kingsridge Alpha Institute, I spent three years surviving humiliation, cruelty, and endless discrimination. As an orphan with no powerful bloodline, no influential family, and no Alpha willing to claim me, I believed that keeping my head down was the only way to survive. I endured every insult, every punishment, and every betrayal, convinced that graduation would finally set me free. Instead, it became the night I died. Framed for murdering the Alpha heir, I was condemned without a trial. Beneath the Blood Moon, I begged for someone...anyone...to ask the one question that could have saved me: What if she's innocent? No one did. My so-called friends stayed silent. My enemies smiled. The entire werewolf world watched as I was executed for a crime I never committed. Then I opened my eyes. I was eighteen again, standing on my first day at Kingsridge...three years before my execution. The Moon Goddess has given me a second chance. This time, I remember everything. I won't be the weak Omega waiting for someone to save me. I'll expose every traitor, rewrite my fate, and make those who underestimated me pay. But revenge is only the beginning. Hidden beneath the academy lies an ancient secret, and a forgotten power has awakened inside me...one capable of shattering everything the werewolf world believes about Alphas, Betas, and Omegas. The Blood Moon is coming again. So is the murder. Only this time, I won't be the girl kneeling in silver chains. I'll be the woman who destroys every lie, claims the power that was stolen from me, and forces an entire world to bow before the Omega they tried to kill.

Alia is a skilled thief who, in search of a legendary treasure, sneaks into a castle under the cover of night. However, she unexpectedly witnesses the castle’s owner, the handsome and cold-hearted billionaire Marcellus, murder his wife. In the chaos of her escape, Alia is discovered and killed by him. But death isn’t the end. Alia wakes up to find herself reborn a year earlier, this time in the body of the wife Marcellus had killed—Livia. Faced with the man who had once killed her, now acting outwardly kind but still harboring deadly intentions, Alia knows she must uncover the truth within a year and avoid the same tragic fate. Her plan? Escape the castle and steal the treasure. During her time in the castle, Alia discovers that Livia’s identity is far from simple, and she soon finds herself tangled in a deeper conspiracy. Marcellus’s younger brother, Elias, has a close, secret relationship with Livia, one that seems to involve hidden feelings. As Alia secretly investigates Marcellus’s true intentions, she is drawn to his conflicting mixture of gentleness and coldness. At the same time, the body of Livia compels her to develop feelings for Elias, whose tender care for her awakens a sense of warmth. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, Alia realizes that every person’s motives are more complex than they first appear, and she must make difficult choices between truth, revenge, love, and survival. As the one-year deadline approaches, the conspiracy unfolds, and Marcellus’s true intentions toward Livia are exposed. Alia finally finds a chance to escape. But with emotions tangled and fate inextricably linked to the castle, will she choose revenge and freedom, or will she find redemption and true love within the deadly walls of the castle?

When I'm on the verge of dying, the kidnapper who has kidnapped me calls my fiance, Connor Weston, who's also the youngest patrol officer in the pack. The call goes through, only for us to hear Connor's voice, which is filled with suppressed rage. "Sylvia Kline, I'll give you three seconds to stop bothering me. Vivian's initiation ceremony will take place at night three days later. If you dare pull off another one of your tricks again—" "Connor…" Blood gushes out of my mouth as soon as I open it. My voice is so hoarse that I don't sound like myself at all. "Save… me…" "Your acting's pretty good," Connor cuts me off, his tone filled with disdain. "Listen, if you dare skip out on the ceremony and embarrass me in front of the entire pack, you can forget about going home." After that, the line goes dead. In the end, I die from mutilation. It's fine, Connor. I can't go home for real this time.

My wife has a severe sex addiction. But in the seven years we've been married, she never lets me touch her. To suppress her urges, she spends all day submerged in ice-cold water, and her arms are covered in needle marks. Several times, I try to initiate intimacy out of concern for her, but her reaction is terrifying. She even threatens to kill herself. "I told you, I only want a Platonic relationship in this lifetime. Can you stop being so selfish? If you insist on making me do that, I'd rather die!" she exclaims. She maintains this unusual obsession for seven years. Even after ending up in the hospital multiple times from suppressing her desires, she refuses to cross that line. Then, on our wedding anniversary, a man comes in for a pre-check of his phalloplasty enlargement for the ninth time. After the anesthesia takes effect, he begins rambling incoherently. "Honey, I love you so much." Looking at the surgical scars, I shake my head, thinking this guy is really willing to go to extreme lengths for his wife. Then, I hear his final murmur. "Tasha, aren't I so much better compared to your useless husband?" My hand jerks, and I nearly drop the scalpel. It is because my wife's name is Tasha Snyder.

Natalie Underwood and Damian Abbott were high school sweethearts. Both of them were the most good-looking students back in high school, and when they began dating, they were the most well-known golden couple on campus. There was once when they had made a vow to get married once they reached the legal age to do so. But just when their love for each other reached its peak, Natalie suddenly broke up with Damian before leaving the country with a rich scion. On the day of their break-up, Damian chased after Natalie for a very long time with red-rimmed eyes. To think that a young man as prideful as him kept begging her not to break up with him. He kept promising her that he would be successful one day. Damian begged Natalie not to act so rashly. He pleaded with her to wait for him and not to fall in love with someone else. But Natalie remained cold and aloof to him. She didn't even want to waste her breath on him. Heck, when she witnessed him getting into a car accident during his pursuit, she didn't bother returning to him. It was an extremely serious car crash. Damian's kidney was completely ruptured. He needed a kidney transplant in order to survive. Although he was lying on the surgical table while drenched in his own blood, he insisted on getting up so that he could call Natalie on the phone. But the calls that he had mustered all of his strength to place ended up getting hung up by Natalie repeatedly. For as deep as Damian's love for Natalie ran, hatred could run just as deep. From that day onward, Damien had nothing but burning hatred for Natalie.

Although Kate Hopkins and I have been in a relationship for ten years, our love for each other has never faded away in the slightest. In the past, she has declared on a podium that she will always stay devoted to me. Naturally, I've always thought that she'll be my soulmate in this lifetime. Three years ago, Kate was transferred to a research station in Althoria. When I head over to visit her, I witness her wrapping a naked young man up with a blanket. After choosing to believe Kate's side of the story, I return to the country and do everything I can to take care of her mother while waiting for her return. Little do I know that this is just a huge lie. Just like that, my ten-year relationship has gone down the drain. Ten years seem like a short time—as short as a cicada's lifespan while it chirps through the summer. The polar night might seem like a long time—so long that a passionate relationship carved into my flesh and bones can be erased. But no matter how long the night is, there will always be an end to it. When dawnlight shines onto my world, it still remains intact even at Kate's absence.

On the day of mafia families' annual gathering, my mother and I sat in the back of a Lincoln, heading toward the Falcone estate. I was adjusting my dress when my phone buzzed with a video from my fiancé's secretary. The footage showed a middle-aged woman being dragged by her hair across a marble floor. Her cheek was already swelling, red and angry. The secretary's sharp voice cut through the audio as she delivered slap after slap. "Gianna, you pathetic gold-digger! Did you really think you could fool Don Falcone into marrying you, and then let your thieving mother wander into the estate to lift his mother's jewelry? Please." Another slap. The woman's head snapped to the side. "I'm doing Don Falcone a favor by handling this trash." I lowered the phone. My mother sat beside me, checking her watch with a slight frown. When she felt my gaze, she looked up and smiled, then reached over to fold my hand between both of hers. "The Falcone family is struggling with the new casino licensing, but we can help them with that since Don Falcone is your fiancé," she said lightly, "He is a striking man, sweetheart. Once the alliance is sealed, your father and I can help straighten things out." I frowned and replayed the video. Long dark hair pulled back loosely. Warm brown eyes filled with pain. A small scar on her left eyebrow. Oh God. The injured woman was none other than Anthony's mother! I called the secretary immediately. "Lilian, you idiot. That's Anthony's mother!" She let out a vicious laugh. "Please, I know exactly who you are, Gianna. A nobody his father pushed onto him. Don Falcone doesn't give a damn about you, so why would he care about your family?"