Reaper Watch Novels & Stories

"The machines realized the power spike came from here. They’re sending a 'Maintenance Crew' to fix the leak." She looked back at us, her expression grim. "And they don't use drones for maintenance. They use the **Reaped**." "Who are the Reaped?" Rowan asked. "The people who didn't survive the de-compiler," she said. "The ones who lost their souls to the simulation. They’re coming to put you back in your boxes." A sound echoed from the sky—a long, low horn that sounded like the Earth itself was crying.

"Lilith, ask one of the older werewolves going out to hunt in Moon Forest to deliver this to Bray Wagner, the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack." I clutched that heavy bundle of leather in my hands as I felt my chest burn with hatred. The look in Rex's eyes before he died had told me he'd been driven to the edge, with nowhere left to go. Was I really going to just walk away from it all? But when I looked at Mom's trembling hands and tear-streaked face, I quietly sealed the leather pouch. I found an older werewolf who was just about to leave for a hunt. I handed him the package with both hands and pressed my last piece of dried venison into his palm as payment.

He grabbed Demetri under the arms, hauling him backward. Demetri fought him, teeth gritted, blood soaking through his bandage. “Let me go—” he rasped. “You’re dying,” Torres snapped. “Shut up and move.” Reaper watched all of it with calm, clinical interest — like he was observing a chessboard, not a battlefield. He didn’t raise a weapon. He didn’t give orders. He didn’t need to. His men moved like they were wired to his pulse. I dragged Maya through the doorway as another burst of gunfire hit the ground where she’d been standing seconds before.

Soren - POV Rocher and I sat in the basement, eyes locked on the grainy footage playing on the screen. The man wore a Reaper crest ring, but there was no identifier—no name, no visible face. Something blocked the camera’s view, leaving only his hand in sight. Judging by the roughness of his skin, he was likely in his late twenties or early thirties. I exhaled sharply. No new information. Nothing. Even the dark web held no trace of the Reaper mafia, as if they never existed.

That was when he noticed wounds he hadn't seen before—a puncture through my right palm and cuts on my calf. I had suffered so much in just five months because of him. At that moment, Frederick's phone buzzed, pulling him back to the present. The person wrote, "Mr. Burke, that mountain used to be a chemical factory site. A few years back, there was a radiation leak, but the company covered it up." Another message popped up. "Also, it was owned by the Reeveses. Colette's family." Frederick replied, "Got it."

“He’s waiting.” Thorne said nothing. Virell stepped to the window, staring out at the stars. “She’s not ready,” he said. “But she’s close.” Thorne’s voice was low. “You want her tested.” Virell turned. “I want her revealed.” — The second wave of Reapers departed at dawn. They were faster. Sharper. Less patient than Thorne’s team. Their orders were clear: provoke the bond. Force the awakening. Measure the threat.

Amidst the black shadows, a ghost of something was moving. Perla stood near the barrier after she had broken it, and she watched the black shadows infiltrate, accompanied by witches, demons, and sirens into the lands of the kingdom. "You will pay the price" That's all she thought, as she moved towards the pack to take her baby girl, Rina, and protect her from this attack Xavier was sitting at his desk, reviewing some important documents *we are under attack*

And right in the middle of it all—he waited. Jax. They called him Reaper—because death followed him like a shadow, a silent, inevitable companion. The kind of man who could kill with a glance and leave no trace but silence and a cold void where a life once was. The instant his eyes, obsidian chips of ice, sliced through the noise and landed on me, the world shrank to that frozen moment. My breath caught, a jagged shard in my throat. I knew—without a doubt—that I was standing in the eye of a storm, and I was the fragile thing about to be torn apart.

Will she die tonight? Unlike what most mortals believe, I’m not the only reaper walking this world. There are many of us, spread across the earth like silent watchers. Death is constant—every second, someone takes their last breath. But not all of them fall under my charge. I only reap those whose names appear in my book—the appointed souls bound to my hand. I kept checking my note, flicking through its cursed pages, waiting for her name to appear. But it didn’t. Not yet.

I added with a cold expression. I watched as sadness and disappointment flashed through her eyes and did not show remorse. This shouldn't repeat, it is for her own good.