Who Will Cry When You Die Novel Novels & Stories

Spit and tears had leaked out the corner of my mouth and dried on my cheek. "Max why?" I managed to force it out. "I can't let you go. Not until my brother tells me to." Death has finally come to me. There is no better way to say it; I am Hollis Genovese's most prized possession. Slowly, I fade out into unconsciousness. THE END

I returned his smile, eager to hear something exciting. “When she died, I cried.” He said like he had just revealed a billion-dollar information. I couldn’t control myself and burst into laughter which clearly annoyed him. “What’s funny about it?” “Just because you cried? I'm sorry she died. I know her death must've been painful to you, but I was expecting a more shocking secret.” “Why won't you be surprised that I cried? Crying makes me a coward and a weak person.” He gazed ahead of him with a confused frown.

They slid down my cheeks, hot and relentless, mixing with the remnants of the rain. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. I hoped to claw my way out of this life and into hers. But all I could do was sit there, trembling in the dark, staring at my reflection in the rain-streaked glass. Whispering the question, I couldn’t be silent. Who is going to die first?

It was William, the Alpha from the Ice Plains Pack, standing behind me. His voice was filled with sorrow, "When you sent him to the Ice Plains, I knew he died painfully. But I didn’t expect... A ten-year-old cub, betrayed by his pack, mauled by lone wolves, abandoned by his father... and forced to watch himself bleed to death." Andrew's final memories were of waiting for death. Even if I had reached him in time, I wouldn’t have been able to save him because the only crystal healing chamber had been taken over by Lucas.

My nose ran, and my eyes puffed up, but I couldn't contain the emotion. I cried, like I was abandoned, like a child who's lost his way, overwhelmed by feelings I couldn't put into words. The sound of my despair echoed back at me, a heartbreaking reminder of my pain. “Benita… why did you die?” *** 🦋 *** 🦋 CELESTINE🦋

The women must have noticed that I was beginning to lose consciousness because they immediately let go of my limp body. "Is she dead?" I faintly heard one of them ask, her voice a mixture of fear and panic. "Who cares... I'm sure Lord Darius and Lady Hilda wouldn't care. They'll even thank us for getting rid of this filth," another said casually. "Thank us!!! How idiotic can you be!? Half-breed or not, she's the daughter of The Great Rafael Bloom. And we've just killed her. Mere vampire maids. We'll be staked alive for this," another declared in panic, making the others start to panic as well, realizing what they had done.

Every move was hurting me This man was strong and ruthless. Then I saw death approaching. "You hurt my partner and now you deserve punishment." he approached Jack with his gun, who was standing and barely watching. He had been crushed by a fight. "Please dont." I began to cry inconsolably as hard as I could. With all the strength I had left. "I'll take away what you love most." he laughed and smashed my life to pieces with a thunderbolt. He killed him. He killed my future.

There, right beside my husband Brandon in the photo, was my so-called best friend, Melissa. … Snapping out of it, I stared at Melissa's two-faced expression. She must have known about the lottery win by then. They had probably plotted the whole thing, faking his death to pocket the cash. "Noelle, don't take it so hard. You're already unwell. What if Brandon's death makes you worse?" I shrugged off Melissa's hand and asked with eerie calm, "Where's Brandon's body? I want to see him." Melissa blinked, thrown off by my composure. "In the ward," she stammered.

I cried like a man who had just been handed his own death sentence. Because that’s exactly what I was. And there was no one left in the world who would save me. Nobody. Not even my wolf. Not even Rayne. Not even myself. I cried until there was nothing left but a hollow, shattering ache in my chest and the crushing truth that I was dying. And I was dying alone.

It’s a powerful feeling and you can only feel it when it happens to you. I keep her close as she starts to read the diary. I wrap a blanket around us as it’s a little chilly outside. She looks at me intermittently and she can barely keep herself from crying. It’s as if her eyes keep asking me the same question—‘Is he really dead?’ It’s amazing how much sympathy the dead guy evokes.