Mortality Walten Files Novels & Stories

Buried shallow. She pulled it out, her hands trembling. Anaïs opened it. Inside were files. Paper. Photos. A USB drive. She flipped through the first page. Her own name. Cassian’s photo. Julien’s military ID. Maris’s hospital birth records. The words stamped across each page: “DECEASED”. Anaïs felt the chill spread through her chest. “They made us ghosts,” she said. “No,” Cassian said. “They made us targets.”

Kyle's POV Three weeks in Paris, and I was no closer to exonerating my father than when I'd arrived. If anything, I'd only uncovered more sins. The file on my desk contained photographs, financial records, Morton's call interrupted my thoughts. "Morton," I answered, my voice rough from lack of sleep. "Kyle," he replied. "There's been a development. Richard Williams is dead." I moved away from the window, alert. "How?" "Officially? Suicide. He was found hanging in his cell early this morning."

The drug, often associated with illegal use as a stimulant, suggested that both women might have suffered the same horrifying experiences before their deaths. He made a note of the dates: Natalie Wayne was murdered exactly five years after Mirriam Strauss's death. He put the documents aside and pulled out another document with a man's name, "Peter Weasley" written on it. He scanned the contents of the records before comparing the records of the three victims.

There were numerous files. I took a file and went through the file names of the girls who were sold under Nathan's watch. I found a few of the girls there. I looked at images of the girls who were killed and matched the names with victims and the girls who were missing and were captivated by Nathan. Few of them were murdered. I took out the files of the girls whom I found murdered and placed those on the desk. "Here these files of the files of the girls which I find are murdered".If I was not a werewolf and seen much more blood and violent actions like this I would have been having nightmares for days.

*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.

She smacks her lips before walking out of his office. "Mr. Walton is so stubborn. I thought it will be easy for me to get him by threatening him with my dad's name. There is no way I can get to her without the file. There is always a way to get what you want" she smiles. Mr. Walton usually leaves his office to unlock by two o'clock for a lunch break and he spent thirteen minutes for a lunch break. Immediately after he left for a lunch break, Henrietta speak into Mr. Walton's office to get the file because thirteen minutes is enough for her to search for the file. She searched everywhere in Mr. Walton's office but couldn't find it. "Where could this file be? " she said to herself. She searche

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.

Twenty minutes later, I’m done and turning my paper in to Professor Vassily’s desk. “Already?” He takes the paper from me. “Yeah. I love the book.” He chuckles. “You take after your father, I guess.” I stare at him. Professor Vassily rubs his temple. “I read your file. I saw that he was a professor. I’m sorry for your loss.” The suffocating feeling I’m always working so hard to keep at bay presses down on my chest. I’m right back there, standing in the living room with the phone pressed to my ear, hearing those awful words: “terrible accident”... “passed away”...

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.