Without Warning Novel Novelas e Histórias

Mia's POV I lock up the door of this old, abandoned house. Running for days because of the zombie outbreak. I find a room with bars on the windows. It looks safe, but then I hear a noise. Zeke stumbles in from the closet. He was bitten last week. His skin is gray and peeling; pus leaks from sores on his arms. He smells of rotten meat and shit. His eyes are milky white. He groans low. I retreat backward, holding my heart because it's pounding. I grab my knife but he's quick.

"So, this is where the ketchup went? How dare you waste it just to put on a show!" He reached out to wipe it off, but the instant his fingers brushed my skin, he screamed in horror because I was ice-cold. His hand trembled violently as he pointed at me, his voice shaking. "She's… Dead. She's really dead!" Edwin's breath caught, his chest tightening as he stared at my lifeless body in disbelief. Mom wailed, nearly fainting. For the first time, I saw genuine fear etched into their faces. But she didn't dare take a step closer as maggots had already begun to crawl from beneath my clothing.

she mumbled like she always did before any incident happened. ****** Thanks for reading. And yeah, please give a chance to my other books as well. Beta Nicholas is a werewolf romance. Please read it too, and the decision of completing it is completely on you. Thanks. And please, vote for the story :)

Then, I turned off my computer and went to water the plants on the balcony. The bougainvilleas outside the window were in full bloom, their purple petals swaying gently in the breeze. I recalled the words Dad used to love saying. "Elena, no matter what happens, live well." And so, I promised him I would live well. … Third Person's POV Meanwhile, in Newmont, a storm was brewing. After receiving the evidence Elena had provided, Guillermo didn't rush to act. He was an extremely cautious man, so he spent two full weeks verifying every piece of evidence, ensuring there were no gaps.

The Harlow residence blazed with lights as maids busied themselves preparing the venue for tomorrow. I was sitting in the study when lines of text suddenly appeared before my eyes, scrolling rapidly with a kind of manic excitement. [Is the protagonist blind? She doesn't want such a good man and insists on that piece of trash?] [Tonight is the finale! That vicious supporting male character, Drake Weston, needs to exit the story already.] [As long as Drake and the fake heiress sleep together and the media catches them, the protagonist won't be able to go through with this marriage!]

Lightning exploded outside. The journal slipped from his hands. Falling open. And across the first page— written in large, hurried handwriting— was a warning. A warning written twenty years ago. A warning nobody was supposed to read. It said: If you're reading this, the island has returned. Run. To Be Continued...

Keys jingled as Lyra’s familiar voice hummed softly as she stepped inside. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. My heart slammed into overdrive. Ken’s eyes snapped open beside me, wide with the same panic. I rolled off the bed in a frantic scramble, grabbing my discarded shorts and diving underneath the bed frame just as Lyra’s footsteps approached the bedroom door. Dust tickled my nose in the cramped, dark space. Ken yanked the covers over himself, pretending to be asleep as the door creaked open. “Ken? Babe, I came back early—Anna got sick…” Lyra’s voice trailed off as she opened the bedroom door.

His breath. My pulse climbing. My body remembered last night far too clearly. Maybe the cabinet was too small. Maybe the air was too thin. But both of us were breathing too fast. Another loud bang. I thought the monster NPC had found us. Every muscle in my body locked tight. But instead of chainsaw noise, a dramatic, overly sweet female voice floated in. “What if they find us?”

More lowlifes harassing my wife? She straightened his collar with a soft smile. "Weren't you supposed to be meeting your uncle about that land deal? How did you end up here?" "I couldn't stop worrying about you," he replied, pinching her cheek with affectionate playfulness. "Besides, if I hadn't come, how would I have known someone was bullying you?" Jennifer glanced enviously at the extravagant car before sneering at Kimberly. "So, this is your new man? Hugging and pawing at each other in broad daylight. Have you no shame?"

And they were all staring at me. The silence was the worst part. In a pack of wolves, silence meant danger. Silence meant everyone was waiting, watching, holding their breath for what came next. I had spent my whole life reading pack silences, the comfortable silence of a shared meal, the respectful silence of a council meeting, the tense silence before a hunt. This silence was different. This silence was hungry. We reached the center of the courtyard. The post stood there, black against the bright sky, older than anyone could remember. The runes carved into its surface seemed to pulse in the sunlight, hungry for what was coming.