Martyr Book Review Novels & Stories

We'd all been in the same class for three years, and there wasn't anyone who didn't know everyone else's backstory. I looked across the room, and my eyes came to a halt on the girl in the corner—Myra Davis, the very same bully who had murdered me in my past life. I could feel the hatred burning in my eyes. She gave me a casual look and put on the same smirk she'd worn when she'd crushed me beneath her heel in my last life. I smiled pleasantly at Myra. "Everyone here knows what my family's situation is like. I'm not selfless enough to give away the money I need to survive to someone else. Myra, you agree with me, don't you?"

Winter I jog along the path, which twists and turns its way through the trees. Just when I think I'm done crying, another tear slides down my face. I hastily brush each one away. What happened to Lucy is so unfair. She seemed like such a nice person. Did she do something to deserve what happened to her? How could anyone deserve having their soul consumed by one of those wisps? The questions about Lucy lead to bigger questions. Is this the place that everyone comes to when we die? Are we trapped here forever?

We make sure it's level and then I reach down and pick up a rock to place atop the earth. "We should say something," I murmur. Alec looks at me, his eyes unreadable. "She was a brave woman," he says, his voice low. "She didn't deserve any of this." I swallow the lump in my throat. "She was a friend to me when I had few of those. She was a teacher and a protector. She was a warrior right to the end." I look away, tears burning my eyes. Alec's hand wraps around mine, and I squeeze his fingers, grateful for his silent strength.

Even when there's nothing coming up, I still dry heave. I'm a monster. A freak. People at Hawthorn keep treating me like I'm different, and apparently they're right. Except I'm so much worse than they've probably imagined. What Heather and those girls did was awful, but they don't deserve to die for it. And what if I get that way again? What if I... change in the weird way I did when I decided to fight back? I should save everyone else from further danger and just leave Hawthorn. Sitting up, I wipe my mouth and move to get to my feet, but the giant wolf standing no more than a yard away stops me.

Then, she grunted, "Darryl, look at me again and I'll gouge your eyes out!" 'I'm one of the twelve Fiend Martyrs. I'm pure, arrogant, and noble. How could I hold it in when Darryl had seen me naked repeatedly? What a disgrace!' she thought. Darryl remained calm and he even went all out. "Fiend Martyr, don't be so unreasonable. You want to kill me, but you won't even allow me to take a few glances at you? Plus, if it wasn't because you wanted to kill me, you wouldn't be in this situation right now."

I folded my hands. “No, you are trying to get yourself killed.” His voice dropped, and he glanced over his shoulder, “...you of all people should know that once a person has been marked by The Martyrs, they are already as good as dead.” “You do not know that,” I scowled, but he did. We all did. The chances of escape were slim to none, and if Ledger was not there the first time, I would have been picking out a coffin for the woman who owned half my heart.

"The death of these strong wolves wasn't a casualty. They knew what they were getting into and knew that this could be the outcome. They aren't just a casualty. They are martyrs." Dimitri brought forward two bamboo sticks that were already burning and gave one to me and the other one to Ava. "To the martyrs." I raised the stick in the air. Holding Ava's hand, I waited until the kith and kin of the dead circled them before lighting the pyres on fire.

"And if the tunnels collapse while we're trying to get them out?" "Then we die together instead of letting them die alone." "That's not a strategy. That's martyrdom." "Sometimes martyrdom is the only strategy left." He was quiet for a moment, processing that. "You know," he said finally, "when I first met you, I thought you were just another heir trying to prove himself through reckless behavior." "And now?" "Now I think you're someone who understands that some things are worth dying for." "Is that better or worse?" "That depends on whether we survive the next hour."

In my hands was a book. A werewolf novel. Fake Dating My Ex Alpha Mate’s Rival Biker Stepbrother. The title alone would have made me laugh a few weeks ago. It was written by N-Victory, an author whose stories I had loved for years. I had found the book that morning in the small library room downstairs and had been hooked ever since the doctor left. My eyes moved across the pages quickly. The characters were dramatic. Emotional. Chaotic. Exactly the kind of romance stories I used to devour without thinking. But not as dark as the ones I used to love.

They should have. A tremendous burden lifted off his chest when he thought of how Mija always helped the helpless. If there was any other way..... He pressed the heel of his palms, massaging his eyes. There wasn't. Noah was cornering him. Succeeding at it. Why must evil be perfect? Why can't evil be the martyr? Only one of them was going to live. Whoever dies, becomes the hero. The one surviving, let's just say all bets are off.