Rody And Vincent Dead Plate Novels & Stories

As my soul left my body, I wondered why I could still see what was happening to me. It only hit me when I looked down to see my lifeless body slumped on the table—I was dead. The sound of the door opening caught my attention. I turned to see that a maid had returned. The remnants of whatever hope I harbored disappeared. My brothers hadn't returned. The maid was shocked to see me slumped on the table with the urn and photo beside me. She stopped to assess the situation before slowly approaching me. She reached out a trembling finger and placed it underneath my nose. Then, she paled and shrieked in fear.

He looks so mad. "Get up!" Rodney commanded but he noticed that I am slowing down so he pulled my hair rudely. "Ahh! Rodney please, don't hurt me, what is happening?!" I pleaded but he didn't listen. "Bryce is dead, Royce killed him!" he said but I was shocked by what he was saying. "My brother will never do such heinous crimes, Rodney! Let go of me!" I said but I can't win. He was so strong, he's holding my hair rudely.

The temperature in the bunker seemed to drop to absolute zero. I stared at the screen, my jaw clenching until my teeth ached. Marcus had been with Thorne Industries for ten years. He was a man I had trusted, a man I had given millions in stock options. And he had sold my life to Victoria Vance for a percentage of a dying syndicate. "He is dead," I growled, the raw, savage dominance of my bloodline taking over.

Just felt wrong somehow. I pulled out my phone and called Vincent. "Ms. Vega?" He answered on the first ring. "How is—" "He's gone," I said. Silence. Then it felt long: "I'll be right there." Vincent arrived twenty minutes later with a small army. A doctor who officially pronounced what we already knew. Two men in dark suits who handled the body. Vincent himself moved through it all like a conductor, orchestrating death the way he'd orchestrated Giuseppe's life.

He dropped to his knees beside me, pressing his hands against the wound. Vincent laughed triumphantly. “How poetic. The girl dies first after all.” Mark looked up at Vincent with pure, murderous rage. Then he raised his pistol and fired one final shot. Vincent’s laugh cut off as the bullet hit him between the eyes. He crumpled to the floor, dead. The remaining men froze, then started retreating as Hector’s team swarmed in. But I barely registered any of it. The world was fading. Mark’s face hovered above me, tears in his eyes for the first time I had ever seen.

Vincent was still lying there without any movement! Vincent’s body was still pierced by the 108 needles, and he was in the same situation as he was three days ago. He just lay there without breathing at all. If he was not dead, what else could he be? The old doctor said, “There’s no need to look over. He’s dead. How can he come back to life? We’re not shooting ‘Flatliners.’ How can such a magical thing happen? Mr. Braun lost his life three days ago, so it’s completely useless to wait for three days.”

“Didn’t notice it until now. Sorry about the floor.” He waved a hand. “Don’t worry. Are they taken care of?” “They’re hurt like hell, if that’s what you mean,” Floyd said with a huge grin. “Kicked their ass. Beat them to hell. Took this one guy, smashed his teeth in so bad—” “I get the idea,” Vincent said. “I assume they look worse than you two.” “One might be dead,” I said, face straight. Vincent hesitated. “You sure?” “Not sure. But Floyd here didn’t go easy.”

his remaining pieces still remained as an animal. I pulled up his head and showed it to some vampires who were still struggling for their awry commander. "You commander... Cedino Smith...is dead today..."

Vincent’s group had fought well, killing a good number of them, but they were greatly outnumbered and going against a bloodthirsty group when they were barely recovering from the effect of their last battle, so it was a death sentence. They have my mate, lying dead on top of an equally dead rogue; it looked like they had battled it to the end. The rogue was missing a limb and a hand, and he had a deep claw mark on his underbelly. Vincent also had numerous claw marks on his body. I could remember the way I was shaking when I saw his remains; he had been bled dry and left to die. His other colleagues were not left out. All had undergone a brutal death, and no one lived to be able to tell the t

Calculated to drop us without killing. Because Vincent didn't want us dead. Not yet. He wanted us alive. Wanted to.... Everything went dark.