Outer Banks: Dead Break Novels & Stories

“Give me a map. Now!” “They have attacked three packs within the last month alone,” Marley muttered, keeping his voice low as the Omegas moved on. “Black Ride, Moon Range, and Ocean Wolf. They’re drawing closer to Sea Pine with each one.” Even as Atticus admired his decision to take Marley under his wing, allowing him the honour of running messages for his Alpha, an edge of panic set in. “Looks like it’ll be Goldtail next,” Atticus murmured, tracing the rough line Red Ripper were following. “Or Oak Runner. Either way, they aren’t far off.”

I handed the phone to the Gamma and told him to handle it. “Penelope is dead. Courtney found her on the beach, her throat ripped out. I have Courtney headed home.” I told Maverick. “Fuck! What is his plan here?” Maverick said. Something broke in the background. “He wants to mark her and mate her.” I said, not sure what to say.

A classic power play. Ragnar loved reminding people of their place without saying much at all, letting the sheer weight of his presence do the work for him. “Matters,” he repeated slowly, his voice dangerously low. My jaw tightened slightly as he set the glass down. “The undead,” I said, steering the conversation back on track. “There was another attack last night. Near an omega gathering on the outskirts.” That immediately got his attention and he leaned forward slightly. “Casualties?” “None. I handled it.”

He stumbled backward, his voice trembling as he asked, "How could… How could this happen to Giselle?" Gary pushed past him and sprinted toward the body, screaming, "Get a doctor! Quick!" "It's too late. She's already dead." Zachary's voice dripped with devastation. Dead? Their sister was dead? Gerald swayed on his feet, while Gary collapsed beside the body, clutching Giselle and crying until he nearly fainted. "Sorry… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have locked you in the basement…" Gerald turned around, his eyes blown wide. He seized a guard by the collar. "Why didn't anyone tell us about this? What do we even pay you for?"

I heard the clicking of camera shutters, but no one called the ambulance. My blood drained dry. My body became cold. Finally, Yvette Skye was no more. I died all alone at the corner of the street. No one cared. My corpse was not a pretty sight. My eyes were wide, unseeing, and there was a large hole in my stomach. My legs were twisted together. One of my arms was flung by the side of the road. My legs were useless now. I was ugly. No wonder the little girl cried. Floating in the air, I stared at my mutilated corpse.

then cracked. "Ha... hahaha... hahahahaha!" Her eyes burned with shattered rage and something darker. She could already see it—Southport's new favorite joke. Her. The bride dumped at the altar. Forever a punchline. *** Connor floored it to Zoe's house. But when he pulled up, movers were already hauling stuff out. He rushed one of them, panicked. "The girl who lived here—where is she?" The guy blinked. "No clue. We're just clearing it out. Place got sold. Leftovers, that's it."

I opened my mouth, but no sound came out. Jordan spotted me first. He walked over, feigning surprise. "Hugo, what are you doing here? Some of the bodies had their faces destroyed. Why don't you take a look and see if you recognize anyone?" He lowered his voice. "I heard that they were still calling your name before you died."

My army and willing men were around us. The crystal dome broke, and soon an arrow was shot. It landed at my feet. Then the crystal doors broke, and all hell broke loose. Men wearing black robes poured in... I heard them scream... "Get the Queen..." one yelled, and I chuckled. Stormee was not there, she was safe, and they were going to go fucking down. "Don't kill them all... I need one or two alive," I said, and my men nodded. "Stay close..." Romeo said and I nodded.

Tan stared down into the glass of whiskey he had in his hand. No matter how deep or how long he stared into the brown liquid, he couldn't get the image of Gabby's face, the last time he saw her, out of his mind. He really messed this one up big time. The memory of Gabby flipping free his hand was engraved in his mind. At what point would the alcohol stop the memories from intruding his thoughts, he often wondered and even after downing shot after shot. Even if he ever survived this phase of his life where he felt like his heart was ripped out of his cage whenever he was sober, his liver might have a hard time catching up.

I countered. Dax reached out, his hand covering mine on the workbench. His touch was the only thing that felt real in a world that was rapidly becoming a hall of mirrors. "We hit Florida tomorrow. Thorne's old contacts the Southern Death Dealers they run the coastal roads. It's going to be a gauntlet."