Your Lie In April Death Novels & Stories

Kayson's POV I stood firm, my voice even. "Thane, I know you're hurting. But April's innocent. She didn't cause Luciana's death." Thane sneered. "Innocent? She's the reason Luciana's gone. If she hadn't come here, Luciana would still be alive." I took a deep breath, my tone measured. "Thane, that's not true. Luciana's death was a tragic accident. We can't blame April for it."

Surprise flashed across his face, quickly replaced by a smug, self-satisfied grin. "My dear ex-wife. You came." He opened his arms as if to welcome an old friend. "Did you miss me?" "The only thing I miss," I said, my voice dripping with disdain, "is the opportunity to have killed you myself." "Die?" Julian strolled toward me. "Darling, you have it all wrong. I'm not going to die. I'm going to rise from the ashes." "With what? The five million you stole?" "The five million is just the ticket to the main event," he said, a wild, feverish look in his eyes. "Once the Morettis and the Cartel tear each other apart, all of Chicago will be mine for the taking."

“Sir, Ms. Lorien passed away at 9:17 p.m. on April 21, 2025, from brain cancer. Her body is currently in the hospital morgue. “We ask the family to please make arrangements to collect her body as soon as possible.” The voice on the other end sounded routine, like someone used to delivering such news. But in Pierce’s head, a light went out. Meanwhile, I floated silently, arms folded, seated on the stairwell, watching the scene before me with calm detachment. My death notice had arrived. I had wondered what kind of expression would Pierce wear upon hearing I was already gone? Would Pierce, at last, shed tears for me?

He broke, muttering, "I didn't mean to. Just come down, please. We can talk it out. I'll give you anything you want." "I want you to die," I spat, silencing him. He didn't love me. I knew that all too well. I looked at the world one last time and seemed to see Margaret waving at me. "Mom, I'm coming," I muttered, yanking Sarah off the roof with me. Amid screams, we both dropped dead. It blew up big, prompting the police to reopen the crash case. James got 20 years for aiding a fugitive and manslaughter. That was the end of us.

Nothing real grows out of a lie. "Angelo." I looked at him. "Vivian knows I can't swim." Angelo sat up fast. His whole posture changed. "That's attempted murder." "You still want me to let it go?" I was so weak I could barely speak. "If you love me, even a little, make sure that evidence does some real damage." His face went paler. "Isa. Your enemies are mine." I closed my eyes and didn't open them till we reached the hospital.

I realised that I could probably argue with myself for days about whether or not it was a lie so I decided to stop and drop the internal argument. "Thirteen…" he repeated and looked ahead instead of holding my heavy gaze. He seemed to think about that for a long moment and his expression was unreadable so I had no hint about what he could've been thinking which was frustrating. "I think you've probably set a record there Valentine." "Hm… only the records will know." I shrugged. "Why didn't you get the tattoos for your kill? You killed what? Three? Four Strigoi that night and Guardian Maxwell was a witness to at least one of the kills. They would've said that you would be getting tattoos so w

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 don’t know why, but something is rotten in my gut and it’s never wrong. We storm through the building, Roddy’s being the last room at the end of the long ass hallway. The door is locked and Grouch sticks his ear to it, then backs up and kicks it open. The immediate stench of death I know all too well hits my nose and I can’t believe nobody has noticed it. It’s at least fifteen doors from mine. Missile and Grouch storm in, but I can already see the lifeless body of Ryan “Roddy” Grimes on the bed. I step in the room and see a needle sticking right out of his fucking arm. His skin is already discolored, he’s been dead a couple days. And nobody even realized it. Some brotherhood we are.