Novel & Cerita Left 4 Dead Fanfic

When the factory director’s son dragged my drunk fiancee into the supply warehouse, I pretended as if I did not see them. I just turned around and walked away. In the past, I had ruined my own future by rushing in and beating the factory director’s son up. I was even framed for stealing the supplies from the warehouse. When the warehouse keeper came over with the police officers, my fiancee deliberately ripped her own clothes. She cried and said that she came with the director to stop me from committing the crime, but I beat her up and even defiled her. Everyone despised me, and I became a criminal. My fiancee’s parents could not bear the rumors, and they forced me to marry her. But that marriage was only the start of a hellish life. She lived like a queen at home, yet she told everyone I was starving her. When she got pregnant, she deliberately pushed her belly against the corner of the table. Then, she stood in the courtyard and cried. She claimed I had abused her, and I wanted to kill my own baby. My parents felt bad for me, so they borrowed money from everyone they knew to get her a job. But when she landed on the job, she framed my father for stealing the steel from the factory. Half a year after my father was imprisoned, he passed away in jail due to an illness. My mother could not bear the stress and fell severely ill. She also passed away soon after. When I was pinned under the collapsed brick wall at the construction site, she did not call for help. Instead, she picked up a brick and smashed it into my head. “If you were not so nosy, Jeremy and I’d have been together already. We wouldn’t have wasted so much time!” My head bled, and I was buried beneath a pile of rubble. When I opened my eyes again, I was at the entrance of the supply warehouse. From inside, I heard my fiancee’s soft, teasing murmurs.

My life was left behind in that church fire. When the flames broke out, Cersei lied to me and said Jaeren was still inside. I didn't hesitate. I rushed into the fire without a second thought, only to save my fiancé, Jaeren. Then Cersei shoved me into the flames. By the time Jaeren found us, he picked Cersei up and turned away. He never looked back at me. I was swallowed little by little by the smoke and fire. Later, I stumbled out of the fire alone, covered in soot from head to toe. Jaeren frowned, his face full of impatience. “I didn't take you out first, sure. But couldn't you just call yourself a cab?” “Be glad Cersei is unharmed. Even your death in that fire wouldn’t clear your fault.” He didn't know that I had already suffocated to death in the flames. The one who walked out of the ruins was nothing more than a body still breathing. I made a deal with the vampire in the church basement, trading away my love for Jaeren and every tear I had ever shed for him. In seven days, on the night of the full moon, I will open my eyes again in the dark as one of her kind. From then on, I will no longer be trapped by love. And I will never shed another tear for Jaeren.

From a campus romance to marriage, Dominic Fleming had always believed he led a perfect life. His wife, Isabella Sinclair, was dazzlingly beautiful. Their daughter, Lilith, was sweet and obedient. Dominic sometimes told himself he must have been a saint in a past life to deserve such happiness. Everything began to change the moment Isabella's so-called "sworn brother," Alexander Grant, entered their lives. Alex's name appeared more and more often, and it crept into every corner of their marriage. For Lilith's sake, Dominic endured the strain again and again until the day of the accident. As he lay on the operating table with his life hanging by a thread, Isabella was not at his side—she was with Alexander instead. That was the moment Dominic's heart finally turned cold. So why did Isabella regret it? She knelt with Alexander, who likewise barely clung to life, and wept as she begged Dominic for forgiveness. "Dom, I know I was wrong. Let's get married again. I will make him kneel and beg you for forgiveness," Isabella said. "Scram," Dominic replied. Isabella nodded eagerly. "Fine. I will throw him out right now!" "Get the fuck out too!" Dominic barked.

I went to try on my wedding gown with Lorenzo—my fiancé, the Don of the Morretti family. My younger sister, Serafina, begged to come along. I stepped out from behind the velvet curtain. There she was, pinning a brooch to his lapel. I opened my mouth to say, “Let me do that,” but the photographer had already turned to her with a grin. “Newlyweds, look this way.” They both turned. The camera clicked twice, and the photographer brushed past me. Ninety-nine shots. Every single one of Serafina and Lorenzo. Not one of me—the actual bride. I stood there, hollow. When we were children, they always played bride and groom. I clapped on cue. When we grew up, they sat at the head of family councils; I made their coffee and kept the kitchen running. “Vittoria, hand me the veil.” Lorenzo saw I hadn’t moved, walked over, and gently pulled the tulle from my stiff fingers. “Why are you standing there like that? Go check the seating chart with the butler. I’ll join you after we finish Serafina’s shots.” The photographer lifted one eye from behind his camera. “Miss Vittoria, would you step back a little? You’re blocking the light.” I stepped all the way back to the heavy drapes by the window. And right there, it hit me—how absurd this all was. If this political marriage didn’t actually need me, then I didn’t need to show up for it either.

She was a queen. Then she was a corpse. Then she clawed her way out of the ground with someone else's hands and every name of every person who killed her burning at the back of her mind like a lit fuse. Her husband took her head in a public square and called it justice. She calls it his funeral. She comes back with nothing — no wolf, no allies, no proof she is anything other than what she looks like. What she has is worse than a weapon. And something else lives inside her now. Something that was already there when she woke in the dark. Something that has been waiting far longer than she has. The most dangerous man on the continent has been destroying himself quietly for three years over a woman the world thinks is dead. He feels everything. She feels none of it. She did not climb out of that grave to fall for someone. But he is already in her blood in a way she cannot cut out — and loving him is going to cost her more than revenge ever will. Somewhere in that palace, her son is being raised on lies. Getting him back may break her in ways that dying never did. Can she outrun the thing growing inside her before it finishes what it started? Can she win back a son who has been taught to fear and hate her? And when she finally has to choose between the man who loved her through death itself and the revenge that brought her back — What kind of queen will she become?

My fated mate, Alpha Ryker, postponed our bonding ceremony thirty-three times after my Luna Ceremony. All because his student, Isla, always had some new problem. Our first ceremony, Isla claimed she was attacked by rogues and her shift failed. She needed help. Ryker left me at the altar. I waited all night. Alone. The second time, Isla said her wolf was weak, that she was about to collapse on the training grounds. Ryker dropped my hand and ran to her. Without a second thought. After that, every time we tried to have our ceremony, every time he was about to mark me, Isla would interrupt. I swallowed the sharp pain in my chest and finally decided to reject him. But the moment I did, Ryker went feral. He started tearing the entire werewolf world apart, just to find me.

We were supposed to be in love for eternity. But my vampire fiancé, Caius, has stood me up at our blood-bonding ceremony thirty-three times. The first time, the girl he’d sired, Evangeline, lost control during a hunt. He raced to her side, leaving me alone in the church under the blood moon. The second time, he vanished mid-ceremony because Evangeline was being bullied by another clan. He left me to face the elders’ mockery alone. After that, his little fledgling always had some fresh disaster for him to avert. And he always had an excuse: “I sired her. She’s like a child to me.” Then I saw the fresh bite marks on their necks. They had shared blood—the ultimate intimacy between mates. My heart turned to ash. It was time to burn our betrothal to the ground. The day I finally disappeared, he went mad, tearing our world apart to find me.

On her anniversary, Evelyn is diagnosed with cancer—only to come home and find her husband cheating with their son’s teacher. Worse, her little boy calls the other woman “Mommy” and calls Evelyn “a bad woman.” Abandoned by the man she loved and the child she raised, Evelyn signs the divorce papers with tears in her eyes. Just when she’s ready to give up, a strange little girl calls her “Mom”—and her father, Nicholas, offers the warmth Evelyn thought she’d never feel again. She lost everything. Will fate give her one last chance?

Five years after my death, my wife, Charlotte Blake, once again asks me to take the fall for Leo Cane, her first love, in his drunk driving case. She barges into my home with fabricated evidence but finds no trace of me anywhere. Left with no other choice, she knocks on my neighbor's door. My neighbor tells her something unexpected. "Shane Foster? He's been dead for a long time. I heard the victim's family from the case he was convicted for wasn't satisfied with the verdict. "They abducted him the day he got out of prison and tortured him for three days straight." Charlotte refuses to believe it. She furiously accuses me of making up any lie to escape responsibility. She storms at the neighbor, shouting, "You think I don't know Shane paid you to cover for him? "Tell him there's no use in hiding. If he doesn't contact me within three days, he won't get a single cent of child support for that bastard." But she doesn't know that the person Leo killed in that drunk driving accident is the very "bastard" she keeps referring to.

Eight years into our marriage, my husband was as childish as ever. He loved playing pranks on me, constantly leaving gag gifts around the house. I would just smile, toss them into the storage closet and think nothing of it. A few days later, while deep-cleaning the house, I remembered his latest box and decided to throw it out. But the moment I lifted the lid, a foul, putrid stench hit me. Inside the box lay a severed human hand. Terrified, I collapsed to the floor, my fingers trembling as I dialed 911. When the DNA results came back, the detective's expression was a twisted mix of confusion and horror. "Ma'am, the DNA extracted from the severed limb..." he stammered. "It belongs to Michael Miller."