Vincent And Rody Dead Plate Novels & Stories

"I need to know what’s going on, Adrian. No more secrets." Silence stretched between them, thick with tension. Then Adrian exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. "Fine." He turned back to Vincent. "Talk." Vincent chuckled, taking another sip of his drink. "You’re both bold. I respect that." Then his expression darkened. "But boldness doesn’t stop bullets, Blackwood." Claire’s stomach dropped. Vincent set down his glass. "Someone wants you dead. And they’re not playing games anymore."

Vincent remained silent, his eyes on the waves, watching, as it surpassed Celestine's sobs. With shaky hands, Celestine opened the urn and slowly poured the ashes on the sea. Vincent watches it. The excruciating sight comes out of the urn slowly, killing him softly. He expected that Vladimir will do it but now that he had finally done it, he wasn't expecting this much pain. It etched in his bones and suddenly, his memories with Vladimir flashes to his mind. All the things they did, all the sacrifices they did for each other, and their friendship. He is more than a consigliere and he's certain that Vladimir died knowing that.

He couldn't let go of it, never in his entire life! "Apparently, they are legends in this city with control over everything. Hahaha… But when they knelt and begged me for mercy, when they collapsed on the floor and their bodies started rotting, they ended up as nothing but dead meat. Hahaha!" Vincent chuckled wildly, but tears began streaming down his face. Rosalie pulled out some napkins to wipe his tears away. Suddenly, Vincent grabbed her wrist. "There's a sound coming from the basement. You weren't hearing things. Do you want to know what it is?"

"He's dead. Stabbed three times by enemies. He was still clutching this." I didn't take it. Vincent took it instead and tossed it into a nearby fire pit. "Don't let something like this dirty the Madre's eyes." He handed me a glass of wine, his voice gentle. "Want to visit my docks next week? The new ships were custom-built just for you." I nodded, a faint smile on my lips. The disturbance outside had already subsided—someone had likely dragged the body away. The trading market was brightly lit, the light falling across Vincent's face as he discussed a weapons list with someone. The sharp lines of his profile were calm and steady.

Based on the colour of the envelope I knew the mission was about capturing lost souls. "It says there, the name of who you need to reap as soon as possible. It's a special soul so I gave it to you." I just nodded before sitting on the sofa not far away. From there, I read the contents of the brown envelope. Name: Mary Sean Ivanovich Cause of Death: Suicide Punishment: REAP

John asked, and Vincent slowly shift out of the way for him to see the figure. "Nooooo you're dead." He cried out, as he came into view with the john.

"Don! No! I'm still useful! I know a lot of the Romanos' secrets!" "Vincent," my voice was calm, steady. "Be grateful. I'm giving you a clean death." "No! Don! Please..." BANG. The gunshot was deafening in the sealed room. Vincent's body fell backward. A single hole in the center of his forehead. His eyes were still open, filled with shock and fear. I looked at the body on the floor. I felt nothing. Traitors to the family die. No exceptions. As I was about to deal with the scene, the door opened.

Moonlight washed the flagstones of the Montclair estate in pale, cold light. By the time I arrived at the chapel with my people, Vivienne was already there, directing two servants to pry open the coffin. Dr. Pemberton stood off to the side with his medical case. He was silver-haired and ruddy-cheeked, looking as though none of this had anything to do with him. "Faster! Hurry up!" Vivienne hissed, keeping her voice low but unable to mask the desperation in it. "Any longer and that vile woman is going to get my son killed!"

My mate, Ford, drowned on the day we were supposed to bond for life. But after my tears ran dry, I discovered that the man who really died was his twin brother, Aiden. Ford had stolen his identity, all to be with Kyra, the woman carrying his other child. "The pain she thinks she feels from our severed mate bond? It's an illusion. A little dark magic to keep her convinced I'm gone." I clung to the doorframe, my fingers digging into the wood. Ford's voice drifted from the room, each word a silver bullet straight to my soul.

I clapped my hands. The lights in the banquet hall dimmed instantly. A single spotlight snapped on, aimed at the center of the stage. The curtain slowly rose. There stood three massive transparent glass tanks. In the first tank was Sonny. His limbs were completely shattered, his body writhing weakly in nutrient fluid. In the second tank was Carmela, her mouth sewn shut. Vincent was in the third tank, both hands gone. Some guests covered their mouths and began to retch.