The Bone Collector Novel Novels & Stories

They didn't receive any responses for the messages they sent too. Samuel's emotions spiraled out of control. In a trembling voice, he asked, "How could they die just like that? How could someone die at home without anyone else noticing?" The private investigator sighed, clearly reluctant to deliver the harsh details he uncovered. "It's been a while, so much of Ms. Zucker's information is difficult to trace. According to the village committee, it seems she developed a systemic infection after donating her bone marrow. As for the child… he starved to death. He stayed with his mother's body for several days. It was terrible."

Everyone couldn't help but frown in discomfort. Zack was the only one who seemed like he didn't notice the smell at all, calmly taking the bones and chunks of flesh out of the bag. After a good six hours, he finally stopped to look at Officer Wright. "This is probably the victim's entire body." "Any new findings?" Officer Wright asked anxiously. Hearing this, Zack's expression turned serious. "The victim is missing a kidney." My breath caught upon hearing that I was missing a kidney. I smiled bitterly. It wasn't missing at all—after all, it was inside Zack.

" How stunningly naive I was. What a perfect, tragic fool. I had built a nest of warmth and opportunity, and the viper I sheltered used it to learn where to strike. She weaponized my own compassion, biding her time until she could steal everything. My legacy. My family. My love. My life. And I— Even my bones are condemned as a traitor's, fit only for the flames of a pauper's pyre.

SIERRA POV New York glittered beneath the night sky bright, loud, and full of people who thought they were untouchable. They had no idea I was here. I adjusted the diamond bracelet on my wrist, blending effortlessly with the wealthy elites gathered inside the museum. Expensive dresses, champagne glasses, fake smiles this was my playground. And tonight? I was here to steal the most valuable piece in the room. The blue diamond. “Positions?” I murmured softly, my voice low as I spoke into the hidden microphone.

Ghost doesn’t say anything; he’s just looking at the screen and pressing more buttons. “You won’t find her. She’s legendary, even to people like me.” The Collector taunts me; my anger finally flares over. I reach down and grab the knife. With one swift yank, I pull the knife free, which causes blood to gush down his chest. He groans and whimpers; it's music to my ears as I crouch down and dangle the blood knife between my legs.

"That's actually kind of cool. Terrifying, but cool." "More than just a crime lord," Reign continues, scrolling through the information. "According to Landon's sources, The Collector doesn't just deal in artifacts. They harvest them. They find people with rare abilities or bloodlines and... extract what they want. Sometimes the person survives. Sometimes they don't." My stomach turns. "And they might want the curse fragments."

​Lyra froze, every muscle locking as a woman emerged from the gloom beneath the dead torches. One pale hand rested against the weeping wall, steadying herself. ​Upon her brow sat the Bone Crown—not the pristine relic Lyra had hauled across the continent, but an older, heavier iteration. The bone was darkened like aged ivory, worn smooth, with one side jaggedly sheared away above the temple. ​Yet it was the face beneath the mutilated artifact that stole Lyra's breath.

He pulled the screen toward her. One message from an unknown number. Three words - _"I found you"_ Before they could react, the door opened. Not Marcus. Not Rena. Not Damon. A tall man in a dark coat stood in the doorway. A face she had never seen. Yet her blood answered with a raw jolt that drove the air from her lungs. This was no gentle echo like Clark’s presence or the necklace’s quiet pull. It reached down to something ancient inside her, primal and undeniable. The man looked straight at her. His eyes were gold, unmistakable gold... And they carried the full weight of seventeen years.

"What's in this?" "Glow-moss roots, crushed iron-root, and a few things you really don't want to know about," Kaelin replied dryly, leaning against her workbench and crossing her scarred arms. "Drink up if you want to keep breathing. Because you have a much bigger problem than a few broken bones." Zeyric took a cautious sip, wincing at the searing, metallic taste before forcing the rest down. "What problem? We have Malakor's ledgers hidden in our boots."

A lie. That’s all it took. They locked me in the clan’s Sunken Church. For five years, the sun-torture burned away every last scrap of my pureblood pride. But when my sentence ended, I walked out and straight back into the same nightmare. My mate looks at me like I’m filth. Disgusting trash. My once-best friend is curled in his arms. She’s wearing my dead mother’s robes. She has stolen my life. Even my own son glares at me with pure hate. He says a traitor like me should have died in that cage. They all call me a monster. The one who murdered her own parents. A disgrace to the pureblood name. But I remember the truth. This time, I won’t go silently into silver chains. I won’t let them break