Not Worth Dying For Novels & Stories

Worth is known when it is gone, As even breath is valued only after you race, Limbs are valued only when they break And love is valued only after you hate. ...................................................

Making sure his eyes meet mine. “He was a hero who died doing the one thing that guarantees his legend will live on Wade.” “He died because I was weak.” He says softly. “Kane died saving his best friends and his alpha. He died because you were ambushed. He died because of circumstances outside of anyone's control. You are not weak, you are just worth dying for. Do you not get that yet? Wade, you inspire loyalty unlike anything I have ever seen before. And it's because you care this much.”

I shouted with all my might. "I'm sorry, treasure, but I'm afraid that's impossible." some of the men told me. "What are you going to do? Please take everything ... I'll give you everything but let us go." I was dying of fear. I didn't know what was coming. They were laughing. Apparently it was funny for them that I was praying for our lives. "Treasure, your man owes us so much moee than just money and he will pay with his life," said one of the men.

"You were always strong—you could have fought back against your heart. Love is nothing to die for. You could have stopped her. You could have chosen to live. Why didn't you?" Her shoulders shook, and her breath came in ragged, uneven gasps. "And that slut—Vince's bitch—she doesn't even care. She feels no remorse. She said she's happy. She said she's fulfilled. She killed you, and she doesn't even—" Her voice broke entirely. "Why? WHY?" "You gave up everything for her. Yet she doesn't even feel bad about what happened. Is someone worth dying for? Answer me, Zayne! You weak-ass idiot!"

"People died tonight because of me. Derek is dead. Viper is dead. How many of your men did not make it home?" "Three." His voice was granite. "Three good men died tonight. And I would sacrifice three hundred more if it meant keeping you safe." "That is the problem, Colt. I am not worth three hundred lives. I am not worth three." "Let me decide what you are worth." "No." I was crying openly now. "I need to figure out what I am worth. On my own. Without you telling me. Without anyone telling me." The silence stretched so long I thought he had hung up.

"We're all dying together. Prisoners and prison. Monster and cage. All of us fading into nothing. All of us becoming void." "Good," James said. His voice was hollow. Empty. The boy who'd sacrificed himself was almost gone now. Just echoes remained. Just fragments of consciousness that used to be child. "If we die holding you—if we fade together—then at least you can't hurt anyone. At least our death means something." "Does it?" the entity asked. Genuinely curious. "Does dying mean something? Does sacrifice matter when no one remembers? When even you forget why you're here? When—"

"The same way you live with everything else. One day at a time. Accepting that impossible situations have impossible outcomes." "That's not enough." "It has to be. Because the alternative is risking Mira. Risking yourself. Risking everything we built. For a ritual that might not work. That might kill everyone." "But if it does work, everyone survives. Everyone lives. No one dies. Isn't that worth trying?" "Not if trying means Mira loses her mother. Not if trying means I lose you. No. That's not worth it." "So I just let them die? Just accept their deaths? Just move on like they didn't matter?"

Even if it was a trap. Because dying while trying to heal was better than dying while giving up. And maybe, just maybe, I had finally found something worth fighting for. Myself.

Once again, I'm doing exactly what the Order trained me never to do. “I’m not eager,” I snap, “it’s our code. And right now, a clean grave sounds infinitely better than being dependent on drinking your blood.” He studies me for a long moment. “A beautiful sentiment. But martyring yourself to a code requires an audience. So, what exactly does dying for your code accomplish? You're nowhere near home. No one is coming to write your epitaph.” I let out a humorless laugh. “And who’s responsible for that? For dragging me here?”

Life always teaches us different lessons, as I have experienced in the world of survival. The Death Ground. I learned that money can almost buy everything; by the word “almost,” I mean money can’t buy genuine happiness, love, loyalty, peace, and freedom. You can be the wealthiest man in the world, but without those five words, your life is meaningless. You will never be satisfied. Never. After killing all of them, I left a message on the table for Av2 and Av3. Even if I don’t like their guts, I still care for them because they are just like me, trapped in this hellish life.