What If Randall Munroe Novels & Stories

“He sees everything.” My skin went cold. My vision tunneled. Randall. Not a servant. Not a guard. Not one of Father’s men. Our half-brother. The one both Roman and I, at some point, wished had never been born. The one who carried cruelty like a second heartbeat. The one who knew how to hurt—because he enjoyed it. Rhys said it again, like he needed us to understand. “Randall runs the cameras now.”

"Do you truly not know that Randall wants to work with you?" The name hits me like a physical blow. Randall. The ghost of the drug world. The man who moves more product than some small nations, yet remains hidden, a whisper in the shadows. He’s never worked with any mafia group, preferring his own impenetrable network. The idea of him choosing the Ash Mafia… It’s monumental. A game-changer.

“Besides, haven’t I already given you enough? The cash injections, the accounts, the cards. Don’t tell me my generosity isn’t cushioning your little war.” I crossed my arms, heat burning in my chest. “Generosity doesn’t win wars. I won’t be satisfied until that orphaned little bitch is nothing but a memory. Until Damon looks at me like I’m his only option. That’s victory.” Randall raised his glass toward me, smirking. “Spoken like a true Prince-in-the-making.” My voice cracked despite myself. “And what about him? The man with the video. The one who has us both by the throat. I’m terrified, Randall. Whoever he is, he’s watching us. He knows things. Why can’t you find him?”

"I hope jes worth it and he realizes how lucky he is. Because if he doesn't, there's a man right here who's capable of loving you more than he ever will." Her face hardened and her muscles went stiff and for a moment, Randall feared the worst was about to happen. "What are you talking about?" She demanded. Randall gathered his thoughts before he spoke again. What was the worst that could happen? She could reject him, but that wouldn't be the end of it. The worst-case scenario was that she'd stop doing business with him. That was no problem. He could always convince her to change her mind and return to the professional relationship between them, but that would come right after he'd successful

Third Person's POV Randall bolted straight up from the couch. "Holy shit! I just bragged to Chloe in our group chat about helping Morty pull strings for Vivian... She's going to skin me alive when I get home! She finally started being nice to me this week!" As he talked, Randall grabbed his coat with lightning speed and made a run for the door. "I'm out! You guys enjoy the drinks!" Before anyone could answer, he vanished into the loud, pounding bass of the club.

He wasn't certain if Vincent had written the symbols correctly. "I feel like taking a drive to Winterset," he growled firmly. "Okay boss, dress and change forms and I will get the car ready," Anthony said as he handed Randall a stack of folded clothes. Randall shifted from his demon into his tall silver-haired human form. He was an attractive older man and charming, which made him capable of manipulating others very easily. Randall grinned sardonically and decided he would have to go to his son and force him to complete his pledge if necessary.

“I have kids. You know Rosa, she’ll be looking for me. Please, Ross. Please.” “I don’t care.” he paused, “How long have you been stealing from the company?” Randall sobbed, collapsing into himself. “It was just business. Just to keep things moving. I swear it’s over. Please don’t do this.” Ross didn’t blink. He raised the gun. Randall’s eyes widened, a strangled cry escaping his lips. “No—” The shot cracked like thunder. Randall’s body jerked back and tipped over the edge. For a heartbeat he clawed at the air, then he was gone, tumbling down, a dark silhouette swallowed by the churning water and jagged stone below.

“So, what’s your plan? We can’t keep hiding here. Tell us exactly what happened in the past and what the next step is.” Randall hesitated before replying, “I’m trying to access all my funds and savings. If I can get my hands on them, I’m sure we can—” “That’s not what I’m asking,” I cut him off, frustration bubbling up inside me. “What are you going to do about the Hongs? They still think you’re responsible for their second son and his wife dying in that car accident.” Randall didn’t answer immediately, and the silence in the room grew heavy.

She answered the call. “Hello, Mr. Bonacci.” Marco Bonacci laughed at the other end. “Hello, Ms. Rand. I haven’t heard from you in a while, and I thought you had forgotten about me.” Megan Rand’s hold on her phone tightened. “Of course not.” She denied it hotly. There was a long pause. Megan thought he had hung up on her. “Good. Because if you backed out now, I could make your death real.” Megan gasped.