Walten Files Mortality Novels & Stories

Lillian asked, tucking her hands together. "She knows; she has a niece, and she is coming home." I glanced at the body, and I cringed at the smell. "His body is already decomposing fast. We will live here, and it will burn and turn to dust soon. It is how Vanna does her thing, with this kind of witchcraft." I shook my head. "What of the files?" "Alam said it would be in the study when he comes home. They just dropped Aaron off at the funeral home. As soon as we announced it to the pack, we would lay him to rest."

Even so, they were only immune to small doses of wolfsbane poison and would still be injured or even killed if directly exposed to a high dosage. "He got a high dose." Merry paused her words as she took a deep breath. "But I'm sure Jendra's death was not without reason," the woman continued with a meaningful look. "Are you saying that he was deliberately murdered?" Walter probed. "It could be yes or no. Because we don't know what exactly happened to him," Merry said as she looked at Jendra's body. Walter also looked at Jendra's body while rubbing his face. Since they had lived there, Jendra was the first one to die. This made Walter feel anxious. He was worried that Jendra's death had someth

I lean back into the chair, making it squeak under my weight. The door opens again and Alex walks in. He deposits a tablet in front of me. "The death certificates and autopsy reports of the men we've lost over the last two years, even the number of the morticians who preprepared their bodies." I swipe through them, taking notes of the ones I attended their funerals and the ones I just signed off the checks for their families. "I'll get what I need and tell you the ones I require further investigation on," I inform Alex, not enjoying his hovering.

The two brothers and Cathelina Bright both sank into great grief. There was only Luna left for a sober person, but she didn't know what to do. After wandering among the three for a while, Luna could only give Butler a call. The Butler who received the news and rushed over was also no better than the Waltson family. Enduring his grief, he cooperated with the medical staff and brought the body to the mortuary. He went through the formalities of preserving the body and issued a certificate of death.

X-ray machine. The screen beeped. Paper only. No metal. No powder. Willa cut the tape. Inside: one envelope. Cream. His handwriting. She didn’t open it. Elma did. `Willa, He died at 47. You’re 23. He got 24 years you won’t. Use them to watch your back. Patient men don’t forget. -J` The room went quiet. Elma read it twice. “Math.” Willa: “He’s counting down from 47.”

The algorithm was right 94% of the time. And then Volkov disappeared. The file doesn't say where. Doesn't say how. Just lists her as TERMINATED and moves on. Terminated. Not resigned. Not transferred. Terminated. I sit back in the chair, my heart pounding. --- The next file is SUBJECT_ONE. A man. Senior executive. Died of a heart attack six months after the trial began — the same year Celeste's father passed away. The algorithm predicted his death with 87% accuracy. Predicted.

A series of folders flooded the screen. SUBJECT FILES TRANSFER RECORDS BUYER CORRESPONDENCE FUNDING / BOARD APPROVALS MEDICAL OBSERVATION LOGS TERMINATION ORDERS The room went cold. Elena’s eyes locked on the last folder. Termination orders. Adrian saw it too. “Start with subject files,” he said quietly. Elena nodded once and clicked. A list of coded entries appeared. E-03. E-07. E-11. E-14. Some were marked deceased.

I had my own things to worry about anyway. Damien POV The door opened again almost immediately after Rachel left. Vance stepped inside, and I noticed the file in his hand before he'd even closed the door. "That was quick," I said, leaning back in my chair. "Public records," Vance replied, moving toward my desk. "Death certificates are easy enough to access." He set the file down in front of me, his expression carefully neutral. I opened it, scanning the first page. Sarah Owens. Cause of Death: Acute Asthma Attack.

Still, I pulled the first document forward, unrolling it with care. The first entry was dated months ago. It mentioned unusual deaths and wolves collapsing during routine patrols. The descriptions were clinical but disturbing—healthy warriors were found convulsing on forest paths, their eyes clouded white, veins darkened beneath their skin. Three dead in the first week alone, with no apparent cause.

The glass clanked together as she sleepily entered the kitchen, placing them on counter. "Hey," Katia said as she entered the room. She was dressed in her usual kakis and tank-top outfit and had paperwork in her hands. "Morning," Waverly answered with a yawn. "What's that?" She sighed. "Darren's autopsy report." "And?" "It's exactly what we expected," she replied, not looking up from the page. Waverly's hopes, although they weren't high, still fell. Despite knowing the condition of his body at the scene, a piece of her wished that they were wrong and that it wasn't a murder, but an accident.