Our Flag Means Death Izzy Novels & Stories

"Don't listen to them, Izzy. They don't have a clue what they're talking about." Izzy's breathing was short and ragged. I knew from personal experience that she was close to hyperventilating, which was not normal for her. "I need air," Izzy whispered as she finally released her death grip from my arm and walked out to the front porch, grabbing hold of the railing tightly with both hands. Her eyes were lit with an angry fire that I had never seen before, and a part of me wondered if I should just take her back home right now.

“Don’t you want a happily ever after too, Cannon?” Though his eyes sparked with heat as he contemplated her, he answered with a grumpy, “No. I prefer to die alone and miserable, thank you very much. Don’t you dare try to fucking hook me up with anyone, real or fake.” “That’s it,” Izzy smarted back gleefully, rising up onto her toes to get closer to his face and making him veer back even more. “I’m going to go get started on your story right now.” Then she turned away and sassily flounced off, right out the front door without saying goodbye to any of us.

"Can I open the door...?" "If you want to know me—" "What?! What are you doing? What happened?!" I run toward her and tried to prevent her from killing herself! "This is the day that I will vanish. For my last word, Please. Help me, Sava is in danger. Driana is dead. She's is dead. Driana is gone. She is gone. Driana."

My voice cracked, and I hated how small it sounded. Izzy pulled up the chair next to my bed and sank into it with a sigh. “You’re not supposed to know, Olly. No one would. This is—” She hesitated, running a hand through her hair, “—this is uncharted territory. Hell, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to feel, and it’s not even my mum who’s back from the dead.” I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Back from the dead,” I echoed. “That’s exactly what it feels like. Like something out of a bad soap opera.”

"I don't want to go, Tymeria. I really don't. I don't care much about Claudine, and that is wrong, but for me, my mission was always important than the people. But you- you are - you are my sister, Tymeria.. And I don't want to lose you." "I know, but remember, Orna. All for the cause. We will do whatever we have to, and I will follow you once I am done here. Now go." The front door opened with the same whiny screech at the same time my door banged open." "It is bye-bye time, Izza," he said in a calm voice. As if death and killing were the most easiest, effortless thing in the world. I took a step back and another. He walked towards me, his dark eyes glinting.

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.

My husband, Gideon Hale, returned from the war with barely a breath left in him. Yet despite his condition, he insisted on going to the palace and used his military achievements to secure a royal decree. I thought he had gone to obtain a noble title for me. I was ready to berate him for his foolishness, but the contents of the decree rooted me to the spot. [By royal decree, Gideon Hale, Marquis of Northguard, and his first wife, Clara Reinhart, are permitted to share a tomb.] Clara was my dearest friend from girlhood. My ears rang. I opened my mouth to demand an explanation, but before I could utter a word, Gideon breathed his last. I stood frozen until my son suddenly snatched the decr

And a pole interpreted by Izon as a flag of the Rogues sincerity? I was lost in a haze as the shovel hit dirt and he covered up the grave mouths. Before hoisting Henry with a pulley system to the top of the pole. I didn't know what to say. And as I had watched him, a part of me felt guilty for not feeling any remorse. I watched three people die and felt nothing. And it disturbed me.

Two days later, Izzy had had all she could take of the grand old Duke of York. She stood by the horse she shared with her husband, adjusting her weapons and wishing she could shoot the man where he sat. She was sick of hearing about Protestants and Catholics and Anglicans. She was sick of hearing how to bring peace to Scotia, England, and Ireland. She didn’t care, so long as the fighting stayed away from her. Apparently, it hadn’t, which is why she and Gair were not heading back to Sinclair. Mostly, she was tired of being told to change who she was.

“Relax your shoulders. Chin up. Yes… like that.” The music thumped behind them. Izzy finally let herself lean into it, one hand on her hip, lips slightly parted. Maya took a few more shots, then grinned down at her screen. “Oh, this one?” Maya said. “Deadly.” Izzy laughed nervously. “Please don’t embarrass me.” Maya was already typing. She posted the photo to I*******m, tagging Izzy. The caption read: “Hot, unbothered, and outside 😌✨”