Walten Files Mortality Novels & Stories

I rubbed my slightly sweaty palm on my lab coat before opening the file. My eyebrows furrowed as I tried to make sense of what I was looking at. There were reports, I realized as I flipped through the pages. Reports of werewolves that had died. I raised my palm to my mouth, shocked at the number. There were almost twenty of them and they had all died within the last two weeks. I reared my head back in surprise. That was quite a large number for such a small time frame. I frowned when I noticed the most recent death was only a few hours ago. They hadn't caught the killer yet?

Crimson color soaked the carpet. The room smelled awful. Walter Newton lay dead, buried in blood, naked with lacerations on both sides of the abdomen and under his lower left breast. They phoned Bates. After Max and Dale looked over the rest of Walter’s house, nobody else appeared. **** Bates called a third meeting the coming morning. Officers’ gathered in the narrow room again. Twenty of them stunned over Walter Newton’s assassination.

“Yeah, some of them were supernatural, and others were humans who we believe were killed by the creatures. The autopsies we received from the human deaths all showed DNA proving that they were killed by one of the creatures. However, each creature we’ve found was stabbed, which leads me to believe you did it.” Relief courses through me at his words. It feels good to get confirmation that I wasn’t the one killing those people. “Is there anything else in the file?” Rowan scrolls again and clicks on several more icons. Other files with similar code numbers show, but there’s very little information. We read those files but do not find anything new. Rowan copies the files and stores them in the d

The drug, often associated with illegal use as a stimulant, suggested that both women might have suffered the same horrifying experiences before their deaths. He made a note of the dates: Natalie Wayne was murdered exactly five years after Mirriam Strauss's death. He put the documents aside and pulled out another document with a man's name, "Peter Weasley" written on it. He scanned the contents of the records before comparing the records of the three victims.

Reluctantly, she backed off, seething. I knelt at the safe, grabbing a handful of aged, yellowing files. They were mostly filled with numbers, signatures, offshore accounts and weapons deals. Basically everything Fernando never wanted to exist in the world of law and order. And then I saw it. A file near the back, the corner marked with faded red ink. I pulled it out, and the name on the first page hit me like a hammer to the chest. Subject: Elise V. Carter – Deceased. My heart stopped.

"Coded directives. Authorizations for 'asset retirement' and 'acquisition.' Remus cracked the encryption. It's all here, Jason. The Caelthorn family, the cleanup crew... even the order to silence the coroner. All of it was sourced from Kairos's private server." Jagua slammed his fist on the table, making the dagger jump. "That son of a bitch. He murdered your whole family and wrote it off as a business expense." “And not only that, after he murdered them, he put them in a plane and made it crash over the ocean so it could look like an accident and their bodies could never be recovered.” Klaus said, reading the files, “It's all here.”

I ask. Miller swallows. “It was a well-kept a death log.” The room goes silent. “A what?” Jess whispers. “A list. Names. Dates. Some are labeled overdoses. Some accidents. Some don’t have anything written beside them. Peter kept track of every fatality at the hands of his creations.” I feel my stomach tighten. “How many names?” I ask. “Over sixty.” “Jesus.” Miller nods grimly. “Pennet started running a few through the system. Every single one came back to a real person. All missing and found dead or medically determined to have died of an overdose.”

The revelation didn't hit me with the force of an explosion; it felt more like the slow, agonizing crawl of frost over a windowpane. I didn't scream. I didn't even look back at the man—the thing—sitting in the rubble behind me. I just stared at the yellowed document in Julian’s hand. A death certificate. Ethan Arthur Wolfe. Age: 7. Cause: Respiratory Failure. "He was the first," Julian whispered, his voice cracking as he stepped over a twisted rebar.

“Hello, Alpha Waylen. The injured individuals have been taken to the hospital for treatment. Also, the cemetery space has been booked for the deceased,” “Good. How many dead bodies have been recovered?” “Right now, we have about twenty one in total which is the lowest we’ve ever recorded. We are still working on identifying some of the deceased,” “Alright, keep me posted so we can arrange a package for the families of the dead,” “Of course, Alpha Waylen,” I hung up the call and sighed. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door and Ace came in with a file in his hands. He gently placed it on the table.

Gideon’s POV I looked at the medical file, and the words written in it were sharp and straight to the point as I continued to read it. Cause of death: wolfsbane ingestion. I read it once, twice, a third time. The letters blurred but not because of my eyes, the words were written perfectly but it was because of my fury which clouded them. My hands crumbled the file unconsciously as I tried to control my breathing. Wolfsbane again.