Walking Dead Clara Novels & Stories

Suddenly his hand closed around my neck, firm, testing. “You want to know a secret?” he rasped. I couldn’t answer. “I don’t get satisfied,” he said, voice flat. “And that makes me angry.” Suddenly without thinking he pressed harder. The air was cut off from my throat. My hands flew to his wrist, nails digging in. I couldn’t breathe, my eyes budged. Saliva slipped from my lips, tears spilled down my cheeks, my legs kicked helplessly. Stop, please, stop, is this how I die? Claire, dying because she fucked another man?

I floated above them, silently watching the chaos unfold in the hospital. It was strange. Death had stripped away all my emotions. I felt nothing—just stillness. Clara clutched her swollen cheek in shock after the slap. When she realized I was really gone, disbelief flickered across her face. But soon, she started sobbing and defending herself, "Fine! I admit I didn't really know how Adeline had been living these past few years. "But I wanted to believe she was happy. That's why I said she was eating well and having a good time. What was I supposed to do? Curse her and say she was dying?

Vex crouched beside him, eyes tracing the healing skin, the fading veins. "This is really fascinating," Vex said, and I caught the meaning beneath his words. "If you get my drift." Before anyone could respond, I heard running footsteps. I turned, my body tensing. Clara came running around the corner, her face pale, her eyes wide. She reached us breathless, her hands braced on her knees. "What happened?" she asked. "I heard screaming when I came looking for you. I thought you were under attack. I thought the infected had gotten loose."

Maya. Clara took a deep breath, steadying her pulse. Then, in one fluid motion, she stood—and slammed herself sideways against the bedpost. Her head cracked hard against the edge. Not enough to cause lasting damage—but enough to start the bleeding. Pain blossomed along her temple. She stumbled, made her breath shallow, and collapsed to the floor. When Maya entered, her heels clicked against the tile in irritation. “What now?” Then she saw Clara. Clara lay motionless, eyes fluttering, blood streaking one side of her face. Her chest rose erratically.

One slams into the wall, the other crashes into the marble bust of the goddess Selene. Clara drops to her knees, gasping for breath, her face pale and drenched in sweat. Yet even exhausted, when she sees more enemies rushing toward us, she forces herself up, raising her shimmering shield once again. Behind her lies Brad, her wolf, his body still and his breathing uneven. His fur is matted with blood. My chest tightens as I take in the sight. “Do you think you can save him?” Clara asks, her voice trembling. “What happened?” I demand, dropping to my knees beside Brad.

As Gwendolyn phased out of the room, her voice echoed, “By then, I hope it will not be too late, Evelyn. I hope we will not have lost everything we have built over the last century.” As one of the guys grabbed her arms roughly and threw her to the ground while she watched with frightened eyes, a huge stake from a door somewhere in the hallway detached and stabbed the guy from the back punching all the way to his front soaking his entire white t-shirt with blood. There was an eerie silence for about two minutes after the guy that had been killed fell to the ground. Lawrence turned to look at the corpse, then at Clara and said, “What in heaven’s name did you do, you witch?” As a result, his he

Another message suddenly entered her phone. No hiding place forever. Clara’s throat went dry. Then footsteps sounded behind her. “Why are you standing like that?” Tara’s voice broke through the silence as she walked downstairs wearing one of Clara’s oversized shirts. Clara pointed shakily toward the window. “There’s someone outside.” Immediately, Tara’s expression changed. She walked closer quickly and looked outside. A few seconds passed. Then she frowned. “Clara…” Clara looked at her immediately. “I don’t see anybody.”

She needed help, needed a way to turn the tide in their favor. And then she remembered the faint glow that had emanated from Ethan’s chest before the ground had collapsed. The light of his power, the light that had always been their salvation. If she could just find a way to awaken it, to reignite that spark, they might have a chance. But how? Clara took a deep breath, her mind racing as she tried to think. The creature was closing in again, its eyes glowing with anticipation. She didn’t have much time. With a surge of determination, Clara made her decision. She knelt beside Ethan, placing her hand on his chest, right over his heart. She closed her eyes, focusing all her energy on the connec

she exclaimed, her mind finally finding clarity. "Your memories have returned? What happened after that?" Adams inquired, his curiosity piqued. "I don't know... I believe I passed out. My God!" Clara exclaimed, a wave of horror washing over her. "What?" Adams was startled, his voice tinged with surprise. "I remember everything now... I killed them, I killed them all," Clara said, her voice trembling as she shivered, her body covered in goosebumps. "How is that possible?" Adams questioned, his tone filled with disbelief.