Left 4 Dead Novels & Stories

The floor was a mixture of her blood and champagne. The alcohol seeped into the wound on her abdomen, fresh blood oozing from the barely healed incision. Her face turned deathly pale. Through blurred vision, she saw Lucas carefully inspecting Natelie for injuries. His hands trembled as he checked her arms and shoulders. For a moment, she saw the Lucas from two years ago—the one who used to stand in front of her. She tried to reach out to Lucas with her shaking hands. However, before she could do so, her strength gave out. Her arm fell limply to the ground.

I understood then. The people I cherished most were the ones who wanted me dead. I could only hope that once they got their wish, they would live to regret it when they finally learned the truth. In my final moments, as the Rogue's claws tore open my chest, the force of the blow tore my spirit from my body. I floated in the air, watching my own mutilated body lie on the forest floor, bathed in moonlight. At that moment, my Alpha and fated mate, Damon, was kneeling beside my sister, Chloe.

Lyra finished the sentence, her voice barely a whisper. On the network, chaos erupted. NODE 12: Node 47 is gone. What happened to Node 47? He was just talking—he was just saying thank you— NODE 89: Is he dead? Did they kill him? Did the game find a way? NODE 156: We have to do something. We can't just let them pick us off one by one. We have to fight back.

My dead leg trailed behind me as we stepped toward the iron door that led out onto the ice shelf. We opened the hatch and the freezing wind slammed into our faces. It was so cold it burned our lungs with every breath.. We did not back down. We stood side by side looking down at Jonathan and his men on the ice. Jonathan looked up at us his smile widening as he raised his terminal. "The four nodes are dead Sierra " he called out. "The global grid is offline and your fathers vault is right beneath my feet. You have no cards left to play."

"Fine. The project has already hit the ground running, so we don't really need you anymore. Have it your way. I was going to be generous and keep your name on the account so you could get a cut of the commission, but since you don't want it, I won't force you." I cocked my brow. To my surprise, she was completely oblivious to the fact that the entire deal had tanked. I was about to tell her when a roaring engine echoed from downstairs. Right then, a multi-million-dollar, limited-edition luxury car—one that money alone couldn't buy—pulled up below the building.

She had escaped from the crypt. "He's not dead! He's not dead!" Daphne threw herself onto the coffin, pounding on the lid like a woman possessed, her voice so shredded it was barely human. "Stellan isn't dead! He's not dead! He's not dead! You can't bury him! He's really not dead!" The chapel erupted. Everyone stared at Daphne in shock, then at the coffin, then at each other.

DAWN’S POV I was seated in the throne room, watching as the elders and gammas of my pack whispered among themselves, unable to believe that their alpha was dead. I assured them that he was dead, but they demanded to see his body. "I want to see his body! How can we believe he is dead without seeing his body?" one of the gammas said, with a tinge of desperation in his voice. "You don't need to see his body. Trust me, he's dead," I replied with a cold tone, trying to hide my smile.

The base lay in ruins, littered with the corpses of ordinary people, and the air was thick with the pungent stench of blood. The air-raid shelter was an even more gruesome sight. What had once been a refuge was nothing but crumbling walls and debris at present. Conrad stepped onto a puddle of blood. The elderly woman who always greeted him with a smile at the base was now nothing but a severed head. She had been devoured by zombies. “How?! How could this happen…” Conrad’s voice trembled. He tried to reach out, but his arms refused to move. He knelt on the ground and sobbed uncontrollably.

“That was only going to kill him. Maybe parts of you, but only small parts. Tiny little parts that would have also rejoiced in the bloodshed. Sure, Sweet Marie would have died, but Bloodthirsty Marie would have been born. And it would have been something . . . desirable. Something you wanted. Like putting your jaws to a bleeding throat. But this? This will kill all of you. It will kill your soul.” “I don’t care about my soul. I want to know if it will work.” “Don’t do it. Please don’t do it.” If he carried storms in his eyes, she carried desolation in hers. “Don’t you understand that I’m already dead?” “Marie.” “What else can be taken from me? You tell me that. What else can they take?” Lyle

She lays her chin on her hand looking like a sullen child. I have no idea who she’s talking about, but everyone else seems to. They all look slightly crest fallen at the announcement. Then they all start talking at once. I hear a few phrases of “those tattoos”, “those intense eyes”, and “his body” being thrown around. I miss a lot of it though. I see a young guy approach the table; he has a very hipster vibe going for him. I don’t think this is whom they’re talking about. He sets our drinks down with a small smile and walks away.