Roy Harper Dead Novels & Stories

She looked up at them in tears and sniffed. “Why are you running her company?” a reporter asked. “Her parents are in charge but because they can't handle it alone, they trusted Jack and me to handle things. After all, Xalia and I were like sisters,” she replied and the reporters murmured as they took pictures. “It was said that Ms. Harper died due to a building explosion. Do you have any idea how or why this happened? It just seems off a little.” a reporter asked and Emily shook her head sadly and cried.

Harrison asked, wanting to go in. It was the same doctor who took care of the Chairman when he slumped in the Monroe's mansion. Lyra knew something was wrong with the look on the doctor's face. “Mr. Stephen Monroe was declared dead on October 7, 2023, at 5:14 pm," The doctor announced. The General Secretary's eyes lips up, a wide grin spreading across his face. “The Chairman's dead?"

deliberately, so she'd know I meant it. The old Harper would never have spoken to anyone like this... would have apologized and explained and made herself small. But that Harper died six years ago in a Montana alley. Jessica's expression shifted... went from angry to something softer that looked too much like pity. "Okay, I'm sorry... I didn't mean to raise my voice." Her tone changed completely. "But Harper, you're not fine. I can see it in your eyes... I saw it this morning when you woke up. What's wrong?"

Harper touches my arm, her pale purple eyes latched onto me and she says, “Charlie, you were a young teenager, you wouldn’t have even had a wolf at that point! There’s no way you would’ve been able to hold off an attack like that.” I nod, “Yeah, I’m sure you’re right but…” I tilt my head back, looking to the ceiling as I say, “I don’t know. His death destroyed my parents and about killed MJ with the depression is spiraled her into. Maybe if I had been there it would’ve been me. Sometimes, I think it would’ve been better if I was the one to die.” Harper doesn’t answer me and after a moment she says softly, “I’m sorry for jumping to conclusions.”

They were nearing the end of the valley and yet they still hadn’t seen their scouts report back. They should have returned by now. Harper became even more alert as she drew her weapon and raised her shield. Just as they reached the end of the valley and the fog had begun to look they say a body strung up to a pole. Harper rushed forward only to find it was George’s body no longer alive he has a deep gash across his chest.

Chase appeared in front of her, his palms settling firmly on her shoulders, steadying her before she could sway. “How did you get here?” she asked, her voice thin but steady. “I saw the news,” he said quietly. His hands shifted, warm and reassuring. “I wasn’t going to let you face this alone.” Harper turned toward the room where the bodies lay. She stepped inside and lifted the white sheet covering each face, one by one. She stared at them for a long, silent moment, letting the reality settle—not tearing her apart, but carving something sharp and cold inside her.

"And not to grieve too much." Beck nodded. "We will. I'll take good care of RUP for him. And I'll take care of all of you." *** Half an hour later, Harold was wheeled out of the operating room under a white sheet. Everyone watched as his figure disappeared down the corridor. The entire space fell into suffocating silence. The news spread quickly. The death of RUP's founder due to illness swept through the city like a spring storm. Media outlets large and small once again stirred restlessly--this time for the funeral.

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.

Harper, Broslin’s black sheep turned cop, was the only other person in the office. “Want some coffee?” he asked Jack as he put down his phone and headed for the coffee machine. “Had too much already. Hey,” Jack called after him. “Any missing persons since I’ve been out?” Harper poured his coffee, then strode back to him, tall and lean, a ladies’ man, if the gossip was to be believed. To his credit, he didn’t parade his women around the office like Joe. Harper liked to keep his private life private. “No one’s gone missing. A single murder all week, early this morning, not ours, over in West Grove. Looks like nephew kept his old-man uncle locked up in a closet, starved him to death while he sp

Her heart was shattering now that he lay there, motionless. "He is..." Harper's lips quivered when she tried to speak, and she hugged her father's head tighter to her chest. Saint was standing above her, silent while she cried. "My father is dead..." "I'm so sorry..." Saint whispered. "Who could have done this... He smells like the Comet pack... But... Why would they attack us without warning? It's not fair." Harper whimpered and closed her eyes. Saint placed his hand on her shoulder. He was about to hug her, but the lights coming back on broke the moment.