Logan Paul Dead Body Uncensored Novels & Stories

Cayden's pov Dead! The man who stood there, half his body encased in ice and a hand stuck in Lana's throat was my uncle, Logan! He was dead! I couldn't believe that Logan had actually died. It felt so much like a movie to me. “He's dead.” Carmen also had a surprised expression on her face. “Well, at least he died taking Lana with him.” Carmen said, her hands on mine, trying to offer me some comfort. I just smiled stiffly. “Yeah.” Lana's death was something everyone should be happy about.

Leaving my body here would bring trouble to my family—to my brother. But I was dead. All I could do was watch. I felt sad and guilty. Even after dying, I was still causing brother and the DeLuca problems. … The next morning, Matteo arrived early. He spotted the body and immediately ordered the casino shut down for the day. I watched as he searched the torn clothes for identification. He didn’t recognize me. It wasn’t his fault. The Moretti had tortured me beyond recognition before deciding to end it quickly. “Don,” Lorenzo said quietly, crouching beside him, “the guards didn’t see who dumped the body last night. But several gangs passed by the casino. It could’ve been any of them.”

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa. … Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression. She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash. "Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?" I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him." Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

he said, and I was shocked to find out that Lucas Sidorov was still alive, roaming free. "So what did you do? How were you able to pass off three dead bodies when they were only two?" I asked. "I burned the dead guard's body at the Inn's entrance; he had overdosed anyway. It was charred beyond recognition, so I passed it off as Lucas. People bought it seeing that half of the Inn burned down and the burnt body was pulled out of the fire," he said, and I frowned at him. "How?" I asked. "Well, I took Gavin and Maurice's bodies outside. Their bodies were clawed and partially shifted, so it seemed like we had a wolf fight, and they died before fully shifting back. The fire seemed like it occurred

I tilt my head. “No. I didn’t.” I glance at the guys. They nod. I drive the needle into his neck. The effect is instant. I have frankly never seen anything so beautiful. His veins turn black. His skin bubbles. His screams turn into something inhuman as his body liquefies before our eyes. And then, there’s nothing left but a puddle. I wipe my hands on a cloth, then turn to the others. Elias leaves us to go to Talia while we go to the boardroom. The warriors came in soon enough with the flashdrive.

, Carla said as they began to kit up. Lucas snuck the Mortal Cup into his bag. As they rode to the location more videos came in of them being tortured and screaming in pain. "Sophia I'm coming for you, please be strong", Logan said while imagining the worse. When he got there, the door was left open with blood traces on the floor. Two bodies were left. "Ryan, Kendra", Logan cried as he held their mutilated bodies. He remembered Sophia and immediately went in search of her while praying to not find her dead.

I knew that face. I had seen it in photographs. In the framed print that sat on the credenza in Lucian's Miami office, the one he never referenced and never removed. An older architecture of the same jaw, the same gray eyes, the same quality of stillness that read as calm and meant something entirely different. Silas Morgan. Dead for ten years. Buried in a memorial service in Geneva after a private plane went down over the Atlantic with no survivors and no wreckage ever recovered.

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.

I was dead. I was hidden in the fridge for 40 days before they found my body. I was completely naked, and my face was twisted into an eerie expression. Anyone could see the inhumane torture I had undergone before I died. Then, high-definition uncensored photos of my body began to spread across the internet. Even in death, I could not escape the public's heated gaze as they judged and commented on my body. "I expected nothing less from a celebrity who's all about fan service. She's incredibly hot!"

As we started eating, the conversation slowly returned to the woods. Dennis was listening more than talking now. “So you mean to say…” he began carefully, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, “when they die, their skin turns pale blue?” I froze for a second. “Yes,” Cynthia answered before I could. “Pale blue. Like the life has been drained out of them.” I swallowed slowly. “Their bodies look like something sucked everything out of them,” I added quietly. Dennis’ fingers paused mid-air. For the first time, he actually looked disturbed.