What Happens In As Good As Dead Novels & Stories

DAWN’S POV I was seated in the throne room, watching as the elders and gammas of my pack whispered among themselves, unable to believe that their alpha was dead. I assured them that he was dead, but they demanded to see his body. "I want to see his body! How can we believe he is dead without seeing his body?" one of the gammas said, with a tinge of desperation in his voice. "You don't need to see his body. Trust me, he's dead," I replied with a cold tone, trying to hide my smile.

"Guess you're not that smart after all, Ashton. You walked right into the gas chamber! You're not getting out, so die in there, slowly and painfully. I'll make sure to enjoy the view!" "Oh, it's you, you trash. You're here, too? Sounds like you're tired of living," Ashton said icily. "No one humiliates me, Ashton Gray! You stole my woman and ruined my reputation. How could I ever spare you? If you want to kill me, make it to me alive first!" Edmund's eyes bulged as he worked the mechanisms, flooding Ashton's room with Deathwraith, a poison. In an instant, the poison—deadly enough to kill even those in the semi-transcendent realm—permeated the room, swallowing Ashton whole.

“This is Ash. Boss Alessandro’s men captured him during their trip in Alaska about six months ago as per the Boss’ order.” “Is he dead? Did they kill him?” I ask. My questions nip my throat, evoking shakiness in my voice. “He is dead.” Dr. Gustavo’s answer is calm and proud, provoking anger to ferment in my blood. But the goofy scientist doesn’t stop there. He continues to brag how and why the wolf is now dead. “Ash was so wild and strong that Clonazepam or a bullet wound couldn’t tame him, so Boss Alessandro’s men had to shoot him to death when he’s brought to this laboratory.”

She's become addicted to them, which kind of relieves her; it's a different feeling from the usual grief, revenge, or hatred from herself that she feels. Astra craves a cigarette because not only is she addicted-but the others have escaped. The last coordinates were in a camp, and as the Officers had arrived, it was empty. Not a trail, nothing was left to track. Her own mole had figured out how to take his tracker which was very impressive.

My scream traveled through the endless space, echoing back at me. AAAAH... "Okay." I blinked. I took a deep breath. "Okay, Amelia. Don't panic." I paused. "You're probably dead." "Okay." I swallowed. "So I'm dead..." I looked around. "...and the afterlife has terrible interior design." I started panicking, pacing around— well floating, "How did I even die? I was attacked by a black smoke oozing out of that vase! Evil smoke! Who dies from smoke? That's something that happens in horror movies when the protagonist makes stupid decisions."

Ford's POV Icy water filled my lungs as my consciousness faded into darkness. "Alpha! Alpha!" Someone was dragging me, pulling me back from the brink of death. I opened my eyes to see the frantic faces of the rescue crew. "Don't save me," I pushed them away, my voice a raw whisper. "Let me die here." "Alpha, you can't give up!" my Beta yelled, grabbing my arm. "The pack needs you!" Needs me? I murdered my Luna. What right did I have to live?

He refused to believe it. "No! Team! Seth! Rose! Simon! Mags! Don't leave me! Please! Please—you can't die! You can't! Please come back to me! I can't afford to lose you guys!" Ash pleaded as he tried to go closer to their bodies, trying to hug them. But to no avail. His soul just keep on passing through them. The screams of sorrow, agony and pain had slowed down as the doctor came in. "Team. Seth. Rose. Simon. Alexander. Time of Death, 12:00PM. All of them didn't survive the mission in Wausau Wisconsin—"

"Based on the preliminary evaluation, your awareness is clear, your thought processes are coherent, and there are no signs of any psychotic symptoms. Your mental health, at least in terms of cognition and basic emotional functioning, is completely normal." Alisha paused for a moment, then a faint but sharp smirk appeared on her lips. "Stop trying to hide behind mental illness as an excuse for your vile actions. You know better than anyone what you've done."

Then she walked up to me, viciously grinding her foot into my wound, using my blood as ink to press down her handprint. After finishing all this, she revealed a cruel smile. "Let him go," she ordered the security guards before saying to me, "John, you know? Your look of despair was just like your mother's before she died. On the day I went to court to declare you dead, I deliberately delivered the good news to your mother. Who would have thought that she'd be so frail? She passed away due to a heart attack." Nora did not have an ounce of pity on her face, only provocation.

I let out an icy laugh, lifted my hand, and gave Chester a slap that left a red mark blazing on his cheek. "See? He's breathing!" I ignored Chester's howls, grabbed my aunt's hand, and pressed it against his neck. She jerked her hand back as if shocked, taking a moment to process. "Chester's not dead? Then what was all that before?" Chester, drenched in sweat from the commotion, scrambled to clear things up. "The hospital screwed up. I just had a bad reaction to some booze. "My body went into survival mode when my temperature tanked, and voila, I'm back.