Mortality Walten Files Novels & Stories

The grey room was not quiet anymore; it was filled with the presence of the missing file and the residual anger from Anton's shattered calm. The single string of text—FILE E.VOSS – CONFIDENTIAL.DAT HAS BEEN PURGED—thrilled on the screen emptiness, an electronic tombstone.

Careful in a way that told me before he even said the words that whatever he’d found had shaken him. “I finally got into the sealed hospital records,” he said. “The ones connected to Evelyn Ward’s disappearance. Most of it’s exactly what we expected. Admission records. Then nothing for weeks.” A pause. “Then a discharge file. Dated three days after a birth record matching Milly’s date of birth.” “And.” “The discharge file lists Evelyn Ward as deceased.” The words landed in the quiet of my office like something physical. “Three days after Milly was born,” I repeated.

"What?" ​Nathan turned the tablet toward us, displaying a global database query interface. "I just ran his social security index, international estate registries, and federal death master files. There is no death certificate for Ethan Morrison. No probate filings. No grave site. No record of a body ever being identified." ​Alexander went completely rigid. ​"According to every legal and financial ledger in existence..." Nathan looked up, his eyes wide with shock. "...Ethan Morrison is still alive." ​My heart stopped.

Sophia took down all the files placing each one of them over the other and started dusting the area. When she was cleaning the top shelf there was a file that slipped down. The doctor prescriptions, x-rays, scan reports fell down from inside it It was Saul’s medical file. Curiosity dawned on her about when he fell so sick and then there was a certain page that stated in big letters, Saul Campbell alias Greg Warner’s MRI scan report.

She was not even sure she would understand anything. She powered on a laptop on the side desk. It opened to the home screen without a single pop up for a password. All the files on the surface seemed plain and boring, but she searched through the trash and found a lone document. It was tagged, "Eliminated", and the names looked very familiar. Billy Don - Died in a car crash. Thomas Daniel - Died in a boat accident. The list went on and on. They were all close associates of her father who had died within the past year. Something about the file name didn't seem right. Lisa scrolled to the bottom, and her heart almost stopped.

*Luca* “Martin, this is a file of a lot of names. People who have been here through time. I have one here, it goes all the way back to 81 !" "And I have one from 74 here". Martin raises a faded chart. "They are all marked as dead”. He opens a new one. "Here! Hallgren. Here we are all three of us”. He lifts the folder out of the drawer and we sit down at a table in the corner.

Carl was a freaking monster. My throat burned. “How many survived?” Taylor tapped the screen, pulling up some red-highlighted reports. “Not many. Some disappeared into other institutions. Some… well, the files don’t even bother to hide it.” She clicked open a medical report stamped TERMINATED in bold letters. Ed swore under his breath, pacing the room like a caged animal. “He’s a butcher. A goddamn butcher dressed in fine suit.” But I couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. Because in the middle of that sea of names, one glowed like a warning flare.

Four of them total. Three are Silver Hunters, and the fourth ... is Sara Khalek. A gasp flies from my lips, and Davis shifts into his wolf form. "Sara." I rush to her side and feel her cheek. She's cold. She's been dead for many hours, maybe for days. Davis sniffs one of the bodies, his wolf lips curling back. "She put up a good fight." His bass werewolf voice echoes in the small room. I close my eyes against the tears. "Are there any others in here?"

It wasn't a liquidation order, and it wasn't a compliance brief from Sophia Lang. It was an automated death certificate, finalized by the London metropolitan forensic desk ten minutes prior. The name on the digital registry was *Victor Hawthorne*, and the cause of death was listed as an acute, untraceable toxin detected during his morning transport from the Carlton Club. Before Elias could process the sudden, violent decapitation of his dynasty, a secondary window popped open on the screen, revealing a pre-recorded video file. The image rendered smoothly, showing Rafe Morale Blackwood sitting inside the darkened interior of an unmarked sedan, a sleek silver briefcase resting on his knees.

My hands were trembling as I flipped through the pages, the scent of old paper and ink filling my senses. I had already read the coroner's report. I had already seen Elder Crowe's signature. But now, I wasn't looking for the cause of death. I was looking for a date. I began to scan the administrative logs of the previous pack, the records of the deaths that had occurred in the months leading up to my father's passing. My eyes darted across the lines of cramped, elegant script. Death of Martha Grey... accidental fall...Death of Thomas Reed... old age...Death of Elena Vance...