Novels by Eccentric

JORDAN POVThe packhouse was finally quiet. Two days before we walked into the oldest Anchor’s territory, the weight of everything pressed down like a coming storm. I locked the study door with a soft click that sounded louder than it should have. Killian and Lorenzo watched me from the low couch, both of them shirtless after a long evening of strategy talks, their bodies scarred and powerful in the dim lamplight.I turned to face them, heart hammering. “I want something specific tonight.”Killian’s brow lifted, that familiar protective hunger already darkening his eyes. Lorenzo leaned forward, scarred arms resting on his thighs. “Yeah? What’s that, kid?”I crossed the room slowly, stopping right in front of them. My voice came out low, steady. “I want both of you to tell me one true thing you’ve never said out loud. Not about me. Not about the bond. About who you actually are underneath everything you perform every day.”They both went still.Killian swallowed hard. He looked at Lore

LORENZO POV“Welcome to my life.”Jordan’s words from the end of that last heavy silence still echoed in my skull like the final rumble of distant thunder. I sat there at the massive oak table, my scarred knuckles resting on the worn surface, feeling the weight of everything that ancient resonance had stirred up. The territorial force had settled, but it left this low hum under my skin, a reminder that the oldest Anchor wasn’t some distant myth anymore. He’d reached out. And now we had to decide how the hell we answered.The war room felt smaller than usual, packed with leaders and warriors whose opinions filled the air like smoke. I watched them all, my wolf pacing restlessly inside me, claws itching for something solid to tear into. This wasn’t just strategy. This was about the soul of what Jordan was becoming. An Anchor who chose connection over the crushing loneliness that old bastard had carried for four generations.Ren jumped in first, always the tactician. He tapped his sleek

“You feel that?” Jordan’s voice sliced through the thick tension in the war room, raw and edged with something far older than the walls surrounding them.Eli’s head jerked up instantly, his eyes locking with Jordan’s in perfect, unspoken understanding. The others froze mid-motion—Lorenzo’s scarred hand still gripping the edge of the massive oak table, Killian’s glass halfway to his lips, Ren leaning forward with that calculating glint in his gaze. The air itself seemed to thicken, charged with an ancient pulse that rolled through the territorial force like the slow, inevitable heartbeat of the earth waking from a thousand-year slumber.It wasn’t a voice. It wasn’t words or even a clear presence. It was resonance—pure, fundamental energy delivered straight from the oldest Anchor, bypassing flesh and bone to speak in the only language that truly mattered. The language that predated packs, Alphas, bloodlines, and every fragile structure wolves had built to survive. Jordan felt it coil ar

Killian’s POV“You two good out there?” I called from the edge of the courtyard as Jordan and Eli headed back toward the trees for another round. The resonance from earlier still hummed faint in my chest, like the whole packhouse had taken a collective breath and hadn’t fully let it out yet.Jordan glanced back, that steady look on his face. “We’re good. Might be a while. You got the house?”“Yeah,” I said, waving them off. “Go do your Anchor thing. I’ll keep everything from falling apart.”Lorenzo was already inside helping with supplies, so I turned back to the courtyard where a handful of the older wolves had gathered near the big oak. Their faces were tight, shoulders stiff. The resonance had rattled them more than I expected. Not fear exactly, but that unsettled shift you get when the ground moves under your feet and nobody explains why.Marcus was already talking to a couple of them, voice low and calm, but I could tell it wasn’t landing all the way. These were wolves who’d foll

Eli’s POV“You ready to try something that’s never been done before?” Jordan asked, standing across from me in the clearing behind the packhouse where the trees gave us enough space and the territory’s energy felt steady under our feet.I rolled my shoulders, feeling the old threads already humming in response to his presence. “Never been two trained Anchors in the same place at the same time. Figured we’d get here eventually. What are we attempting?”Jordan’s eyes met mine, that calm certainty in them that always grounded the wilder parts of this gift. “Same frequency. At the same time. Not leading or following. Matching exactly. I think that’s what my grandmother was pushing us toward all along.”We started simple. Standing ten feet apart under the late afternoon light, eyes closed, reaching for the Anchor threads that connected us to the land and the pack. I sent out a low, steady pulse—the kind I used to calm territorial static. Jordan matched it almost instantly, our frequencies

Lorenzo’s POV“You’re sure you’re ready to talk about this?” I asked, spreading the maps and notes across the table in the smaller study. The third Anchor sat across from me, looking more settled than yesterday but still carrying that deep exhaustion in their shoulders.They nodded once, fingers tracing a faded line on one of the old territory charts. “Ready as I’ll ever be. You need to understand what we’re actually facing. Thirty years of suppressed ability suddenly released… it’s not just power. It’s precision built on decades of watching and waiting.”I leaned forward, pen in hand, processing every word carefully. “Walk me through it. What does that look like in practice? Not the theory. The reality.”The third Anchor exhaled slow, eyes distant like they were seeing old ghosts. “When an Anchor suppresses their gift for that long, it doesn’t just sit quiet. It builds. Layers on itself. When they finally let it out… it’s like a river that’s been dammed for generations finally breaki

LIAM’S POVThree days!It had been three whole days since that night in the bathroom, and Cole hadn't looked at me once. He hadn't snarled, he hadn't insulted me, he hadn't even looked in my direction. He just... vanished. Like a ghost in his own house.I sat in the music room, my fingers trailing over the piano keys. My mind wasn't on the music. It was on him. The way his lips felt against mine. The desperation in his touch. The way he looked at me before he ran away like a fucking coward."Focus, Liam," I scolded myself, slamming the keys. A loud sound echoed through the room, matching the chaos in my head.I couldn't take it anymore. The silence was louder than his insults ever were and now, I think I prefer his insults to this.I stood up, my chair scratching loudly against the floor. I needed answers. I needed to know if I was crazy or if what happened was real.I marched upstairs to his room. My heart was pounding against my ribs, threatening to force it's way out. I raised my

COLE’S POVThe bass of the club music pounded against my skull, but it wasn't loud enough to burn out the thoughts in my head.Liam, that name, that soul.Every time I closed my eyes, I saw his face. I saw the fear in his eyes when I broke his violin. I saw the confusion when I saved him at the bar. And worst of all, I saw the blood on his lip, the blood I badly wanted to taste."Another round?" the bartender asked."No," I spat, pushing the glass away. "It tastes like trash." I scorned.I threw a stack of cash on the counter and just stormed out. The night air was cold, but my blood was boiling hot. I was fucking Cole Brooks. I had everything. Money, power, the world at my feet. So why did I feel like I was suffocating for a small rat?And why was he the only thing that made the air feel breathable away from the pressure from the dad?Damn it man! I may go crazy!I drove home, my hands firmly pressing against the wheel until my fingers turned white. I needed to sleep. I needed to for

LIAM’S POV"Hey, pretty boy! Play something for me!"The voice was taunting and heavy with the stench of alcohol. I tried to ignore it, focusing on my violin strings. My fingers trembled slightly, but I forced them to move. I needed this money. I needed to fix my violin. I couldn't ask him for help. Not after what he did."I said play!" Another voice slammed.A glass bottle smashed against the wall right next to my head.Jeez! My heart skipped a beat and I stopped playing. The bar went silent."What's wrong? You scared?" the drunk man sneered, stumbling toward the small stage. He was huge, his face folded into a scowl that made my soul tremble."Please, sir, I don't want any trouble," I said, my voice shaking as I couldn't even look him in the eye."I'll show you trouble!" he roared and lunged at me.I closed my eyes, preparing myself for the impact and planning a counter.But what I heard was a loud thud against the wall and somehow, I was still standing.I opened my eyes and my bre

COLE’S POV"You call this a quarterly report?!"The thick file slammed against the desk, the sound echoing like thunder in the silent office. My father, the great Lucas Brooks, stood over me, his face twisted into a scowl of pure disappointment and my heart skipped a beat."I... I did my best, sir," I muttered, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth hurt."Your best isn't good enough, Cole!" he roared, his voice shaking the whole place. "You are my heir. You are supposed to be a king, not a disappointment. Fix it, or don't bother coming home tonight." He spat coldly and just headed out.I didn't say a word. I just grabbed the file, my fingers pale. I hated him. I hated this life. I hated the golden cage he locked me in, because I surely wasn't enjoying anything, I was in a damn prison.I stormed out of the office, my heart racing with a mix of rage and shame. I needed to break something. I needed to make someone else feel as small as I felt right now.I drove home, my hands pressing the st

LIAM’S POV"The hell is this?!" I screamed, my voice heavy and shaking as I stared at the mess on the sidewalk.Everything, my clothes, my books, my whole life, tossed out like garbage all over the place.I don't deserve this. Mr Gorge stood tall by the side, struggling with the padlock to my door.I walked up to him and he finally turned to me, his face grim and without pity."I'm sorry, kid. You missed three payments. I don't run a charity here," the landlord spat from the doorway, and his face folded into thick scowl of disgust."But I told you I'd pay next week!" I cried, my fists clenched and my heart racing already. I was fighting the urge to not cry. "I have a gig coming up!" I tried to explain, but he wasn't interested and just shrugged."Save it," he snarled and slammed the door in my face.I stood there, trembling. My heart was shattered. It was as if the world has crumbled now and to worsen it, rain started pouring, just to mock me. Perfect. Just perfect. I had nowhere t