The Last Life Ring Novels & Stories

Remy beside me, braids loose, wearing the black tank I stole from him sophomore year and never gave back. He’s holding my left hand. I’m holding Seras’s right. Seras is holding Lucian’s. Lucian is holding Kayo’s. Kayo is holding Rowan’s. Rowan is holding Remy’s. A perfect ring. Rowan speaks first, voice steady. Rowan: “Tonight the calendar ends. Tomorrow the world will try to pull us apart. So we do this one last time, while the sky is still ours.” He lifts the small iron bowl in his free hand (inside it, six drops of blood, one from each of us, mixed with lake water and starlight).

If Peyton knew the child I just lost was his, would he feel even a shred of regret? At the same time, I made a silent vow. If I survived this, I would sever all ties with Peyton. The kindhearted female doctor dragged me over and called the nearby nurse to help lift me onto a stretcher. I went into the ambulance for emergency treatment. Just as I thought I had a chance at survival, Hannah ran over. She pointed at me and shouted, "Doctor, don't save her. She deserves to die! She's the one who started the fire!"

“Like it’s… aware.” “It’s always been aware,” Emma answered softly. “We just weren’t ready to hear it.” Lira’s voice was low, almost reverent. “Then this isn’t the end.” Emma stood, slipping the pulse device into her hand. She looked out at the horizon, where the first rays of sunlight pushed the night back one shadow at a time. “No. It’s the beginning. The Last Signal wasn’t an ending—it was a warning. A threshold. From here, what we build will decide whether this becomes our greatest ally… or our final mistake.”

The man nods and steps out of the room, closing the door behind him. I open my mouth to speak but my throat is a desert. Cielo releases my wrist, and I stare down at that ring back on my finger. I understand what he meant now. The albatross. This ring is that. An anchor around my life. Pockets full of rocks in a raging, angry river. My mind returns to what just happened. The fire. Our house is gone?

One of my legs did not want to work, but I made it move. I charged at Cassian with my sword in both hands. I swung it wildly trying to keep him back. He did not give me any space. He caught my wristband took the sword away from me. I stumbled, half-blind from the pain. I was still alive. I was still dangerous. I found the sunburst charge in my belt. It was my last resort, it was made from magnesium and silver dust making it enough to cook a vampire's eyes. I slapped it to the floor between us.

“Mom, I am giving you one last chance. Stop the car.” Morgan hung up. She told me to pull out the SIM card and throw it out the window. “Hold on tight.” She turned her head and looked at me with a deep, steady gaze. “Mira, I have not done much good in this life. Let this be the one good thing.” The engine let out a rough roar. Morgan pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The battered sedan shook as it surged forward. In the rearview mirror, the black SUV suddenly accelerated and closed in behind us.

He claimed he knew he was wrong and was willing to spend the rest of his life making up for it. How laughable. He wanted to make up for his mistakes? With what? His worthless life, or that filthy heart of his? I sat in my office, handling the last document. Right then, a news alert popped up on my phone. "Former Lucky Charm, Nerina Larson, Dies in Mental Asylum." I switched off my phone, rose to my feet, and walked toward the window. The world outside was vast and full of wonder. I would carry my family's glory as I continued to forge ahead. No one would ever disrupt my life again.

Kenny said. Opal then said, "We called you dozens of times the day they left to get you home for one last meal so you could say a proper goodbye, but you didn't pick up even once. What's the use of panicking now? Finish the wedding first. We'll go to Espada later, and you can explain everything properly to the Greens then." Every word felt like a burn, searing Nelson's heart. The moment he thought that the chance of ever seeing Sinead again was almost zero, his hands started to shake.

The day I caught my husband, McCoy, cheating, my postpartum depression took a turn for the worse. It was the 99th time I’d tried to swallow a bottle of pills. Our baby wailed hysterically in his stroller. My best friend, Raleigh, grabbed and desperately forced the pills out of my mouth. McCoy scooped me into his arms and rushed me to the ER, guilt written all over his face when he said, “Just make it through one more day, Moira. For each day you survive, write down one wish. “When you get better, I’ll make every one of them come true.” By the time I’d reached 1,000 wishes, the doctors were pleased enough with my progress to discharge me. Overjoyed, I went ahead home to surprise

Talia gripped her phone and kept glancing back toward the abandoned building as they walked, her eyes full of panic and guilt, but she followed Mom and Dad home without a word. I drifted back to the rooftop of the abandoned building and looked down at the officers and forensic workers gathered around my body. They crouched beside it with grim expressions, speaking to each other in low voices. I floated close enough to hear what they were saying. "Preliminary cause of death is suicide, but the injuries on the body..." I whispered an apology to them, even though they could not hear me. "I'm sorry for making you come out this late to deal with this. I didn't mean to cause trouble. I just couldn