Mckamey Manor Death Count Novels & Stories

After a thorough investigation by the production team, the details of my past were quickly uncovered. They also confirmed with the relevant authorities that I had, in fact, already passed away. "Three years ago, Nicolas Soros died on a snowy night—frozen to death because he couldn't afford hospitalization. "It wasn't until the autopsy that the coroner discovered that what looked like a thick down jacket… didn't even contain real padding. And that was already the most expensive piece of clothing his mother had ever bought for him. With discounts, it cost less than five dollars.

Everyone tried to be as polite as they can be as they take the stage and report the details of the case to the ears. August started with his Muddy Waters grit, "The deceased is a miss Ana Esther Rodrigues; 29 of age and of Brazilian descent. She was found this morning at 4:07 am by a local lying easily 30 miles away; but it was obvious that she just came from the party. Forensic said that the cause of death was a blunt trauma to the back of her head," everyone gasped. GD covered his mouths with their hand; Albert looked even angrier in disbelief; and the rest were taking their eyes to a sullen state as they fill the room.

"With him not healing to help us out..." Shea took the beer when he handed it back. "He's pretty torn up about it," Daniel said, gesturing his head towards Marx. The man was just standing there, looking down at the bodies. Wearing just his jeans, Shea could see the dried blood all over him. "Twelve dead. Seventeen wounded. One touch and go. Aren't you?" The pack was now down to forty-seven. Forty-six if Nico died. Forty-five if Martha didn't take his death well. And forty-four if they didn't find Dempsey alive.

“There was more than one death?” “You didn’t hear?” She looks surprised. “You know that finance consultancy office near the south of town, the one that’s run by vamps?” I stiffen. That’s Jamie’s loan shark business. “What about it?” I ask slowly. “Well, six of their men were found dead in their homes, two days ago. They were badly injured and apparently died painful deaths. But their neighbors swore they heard nothing.” My breath catches in my throat. Six of Jamie’s men died?

They deserve better than this version of me. A knock sounds at the door, soft but hesitant. “Come in,” I say quietly. It’s my Delta, Hayes. His usually calm face looks drawn, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. “We’ve finished counting. Sixty-eight dead. Twenty-one missing. And most were from the safe site.” The number hits me like a punch. Sixty-eight. I don’t even try to hide the pain that crosses my face. “Fuck!” I yell in my Alpha tone, making Hayes bow cautiously. “You can go.”

“The radar has shown a total of 1780 deaths within Tourmaline Estate, Young Master, out of a total of 1990 mortality cards.” “There are still 206 of them left inside. Get rid of them.” As usual, the young master gave a curt order. “Find me the identities of the dead.” Jay’s heart chilled. There should be 210 people left. Considering 1780 out of 1990 members of the Tourmaline Estate had died, who were the four members left? “Cole Yorks!” Jay suddenly yelled. “You can’t hide from me!” The man in the white cloak and white fox-shaped mask walked over.

100 million dollars for the entire family. By the time the shots came through both me and Robins had no idea what was happening. Still after counting to 4 I still could’t pull the trigger like I had done countlessly 700 other times before. My kill count had grown to the highest in 20 years. In 20 years, I’d killed about 35 people each year. In the first year alone, 60, the family. Lombartti. To this day no one knows who, or what cleared the entire family or why.

His eyes widened and he reached for Brick before trying to speak as blood oozed from his mouth blocking off his words and choking him to death in the end. Brick couldn't believe it, rage filled him as he turned his head in the direction of a thick bushel of trees where he believed given the shot's trajectory it had come from and effectively silenced Charlie Mack before he could give the whole story. In the end, he died like his brother, Clarence Mack shot dead on his own land by an unknown assailant. Both cases appeared to have been over the same woman.

Detective Riley stood outside with me while Liam and the other police officials busted down doors on Canterbury Road only to find every single house unoccupied. “Detective Riley, do we have a body count of the people who died in the bridge collapse?” I asked. “About twenty casualties, why do you ask...oh my, God.” His face drained of color. “Majority of them lived on this street,” he blurted out, glancing around.

Father makes an x on the map, “Here is where the dead hiker was found two days ago.” “Are we sure there isn’t a natural explanation for this Uncle?” asks River. “Seventeen pets have been reported missing or dead in the last three days in a town of just six hundred people. Also, a missing person’s report filed the same day for a man last seen taking his dog on a walk at ten p.m. the evening before. Does all that seem like a coincidence to you?” River shakes his head, “No sir.” “The papers think Camden has a coyot problem. In fucking Indiana,” laughs Wolfe.