Walten Files Mortality Novels & Stories

"Tell me it's fake. The death certificate—it's fake, right? He's not dead!" Danny exhaled hard, eyes already heavy with the answer. He pulled out a stack of papers and slid them over. "I'm sorry, Dr. Foster. It's real." On top—plain and brutal: [William Wright. Date of Death: March 17, 2020. Cause: hemorrhagic shock.] Delia jerked her hand back like it burned, then snatched the page again, her fingers shaking. A tear hit the corner, smearing the ink. "No... this isn't possible..."

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

The game was mine. Two days later, I walked into the mortuary with two of my men behind me. The air was thick, the stench of chemicals burning my nose. I tapped my fingers against the counter. “I came for Rachel Williams and Dave Collins. I want their bodies for burial.” The attendant looked nervous. “Yes, sir. But… there’s a problem.” My jaw tightened. “Problem?” “The bodies… they decayed faster than normal. We had to burn them to preserve what was left. You can’t recognize them anymore.”

The kind of exhaustion that came from carrying responsibility for deaths you could not prevent. I handed Elena to Maren and went to him. He pulled me close and just held on. “Two dead,” he said against my hair. “Marcus lost eight. The counter-alliance lost twenty-three. Thirty-three wolves are dead because we are raising a child who threatens the existing power structure.” “Thirty-three wolves dead because some packs chose violence over adaptation. That is not the same thing.” “It feels the same.” “I know.” We stood together in the quiet medical cabin while Elena played contentedly with Maren and the compound settled into exhausted watchfulness outside.

I cringed, flipping the pages. "I did more extensive research with the information prince Elliot had given to you." I flipped the page and a bold number was written on it. "3,471? What's that's?" I read further down, and all the blood in my face drained out. "3471 wolves have died from the plague?! Already?!" Leon nodded.

A soft quiet moan left my lips as I woke up tangled in Death's soft silk sheets. Death comes out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist and water droplets glistening off his hair and abs. He has a fricken 8 pack! "Yes, I do," he replies smugly after hearing my thoughts "You also like cuddling," I turn my back to him "I didn't know you would climb into my bed in the middle of the night," he replies nonchalantly

"What?" ​Nathan turned the tablet toward us, displaying a global database query interface. "I just ran his social security index, international estate registries, and federal death master files. There is no death certificate for Ethan Morrison. No probate filings. No grave site. No record of a body ever being identified." ​Alexander went completely rigid. ​"According to every legal and financial ledger in existence..." Nathan looked up, his eyes wide with shock. "...Ethan Morrison is still alive." ​My heart stopped.

Vincent said, opening a file he’d already left on the table. Ilana straightened up and Jo followed her movements, still leaning a little into Vincent. Calix rolled out the blueprints and rolled them onto the table. “What are we looking at?” Ilana asked, her gaze scanning the newly opened file. Vincent leaned forward, his finger drawing a rough circle around a grainy photo of an older man—deep lines, graying hair, and too wide eyes. “He works at the crematory. Handled clean-up for Helene. Kids that broke free from her control. Bodies that were too inconvenient to be left behind.”

This entry in Stella’s file was dated two weeks before her murder: • Agents Kane-Munroe and Agent Munroe attempted to extract evidence of confidential operations. Their actions risked exposing Operation Horizon and compromising ongoing covert efforts. Termination of agents was deemed necessary to preserve national security and ensure the Cartel’s continued cooperation. A cold, hard lump formed in my throat. A gloss shined over my eyes. Termination. And then I saw the final entry, black and white, the day she was murdered. • Outcome: Subject terminated during an asset compromise. Collateral damage deemed acceptable. Operation remains active.

Twenty minutes later, I’m done and turning my paper in to Professor Vassily’s desk. “Already?” He takes the paper from me. “Yeah. I love the book.” He chuckles. “You take after your father, I guess.” I stare at him. Professor Vassily rubs his temple. “I read your file. I saw that he was a professor. I’m sorry for your loss.” The suffocating feeling I’m always working so hard to keep at bay presses down on my chest. I’m right back there, standing in the living room with the phone pressed to my ear, hearing those awful words: “terrible accident”... “passed away”...