Our Flag Means Death Fanfiction Novels & Stories

"What exactly did I do wrong?" Dad's expression darkened. "Don't tell me five years haven't been enough to teach you how hard it is to make a living. We faked our deaths and moved abroad just to make you realize the truth. There will come a day when you won't be able to earn a thing, and every last penny will be gone." Then, his tone softened. "It's just as well that you finally understand. At least now we don't have to stay away from home anymore."

Accompanied by the howling wind, I thought I heard someone calling my name. I tried hard to open my eyes but could only see rocks flying past. I smiled, feeling genuinely happy. This was the perfect death I had chosen for myself. A bottomless cliff meant certain death. My body would nourish the earth. And I would never have to see Xander, Oliver, Jacob, or Asher who did not love me, ever again. [Congratulations, Host. You are about to return to your original world.]

"Your wolf is dead, and you probably won't make it past three days. You should get your affairs in order." Was I dying? But I hadn't found Clara yet. If I died, would Dad and Mom finally forgive me?

She began the rite, and the air shimmered until a ghostly image formed. Everyone saw me in that sealed cell, smashing my head against the wall while silver seared my skin and my wolf died screaming. "Stop!" Dad sobbed, covering his eyes. The vision didn't stop. With the last of my strength, I smeared a bloody word on the wall—"Dad". When the enforcers swept the room, they found the writing, dried to a black stain. "She was calling for you before she died," Nelson said. Dad folded at the knees and clutched what was left of me, howling.

"It’s 2026. You’re in my home. You’re alive." ​I looked at him, my vision blurring with tears of rage and confusion. "You killed me. In the last life... you didn't just let me die. You did it yourself." ​Julian’s face went deathly pale. He didn't pull away. He didn't deny it. Instead, he leaned in, his forehead almost touching mine. The "Forbidden Touch" was screaming at us—the closer we got, the more the Shadow between us pulsed, a dark, magnetic force that wanted to pull us into a single, lethal atom.

You have no right to be alive! @Death Wish

“you can run and be caught then die a painful death or you can stay and die a Honourable death.” “It’s left for to choose because it’s your choice.” “Your’s Nightmarishly.” “worse nightmare.” I read the last line and I was so scared. “So this is how I am finally going to die? Not just in the hands of rogues but also in the hands of the people I call my pack members.” “The people that are suppose to protect me are the same people kidnapping me.” My mind flashed back to all the red flag. So all these was a plan work?

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

Her breath hits my ear,and she whispers making a shiver to run down my spine. "Death" I move my head in a no while she just smiles, getting up to turn her back on me and approach the Alpha. My fists clench as I see her peck his lips, my teardrops wetting the ground. They don't stop there. His hand rests on her waist and he deepens the kiss. While she enjoys it, holding his face in her hands. I felt already dead , they will do a favour on me by killing me. "Finish him "

No words. No hesitation. Just the rhythm of our footsteps against the dirt, the pounding of my heart in my ears. Fang territory wasn’t far. But it wasn’t close either. And every step I took felt like another step toward my **own grave**. Because they didn’t just **hate** me. They wanted me **dead**. I was the rogue who had humiliated them. The **traitor**. The one who had taken what wasn’t mine and left them **bleeding**.