40k Outsider Novels & Stories

“No. He’s not just some guy who works in an office or something. He’s like you. He’s – he’s trained.” That stopped them. “He’s ex-military?” Chris said. “Yeah. A former Marine.” She bit her lip. “He’s just like you. He’s one of you.” “The fuck he is,” Jim ground out. “If he hurts women, he’s nothing at all like us. We have nothing to do with assholes like that, Kat, and you damn well better know it. Don’t put us in the same group as him.” Stunned, she raised her eyes to his. “I’m sorry… I didn’t mean…”

No blood trail, no human tracks leading to this spot. The baby’s eyes fluttered open. Striking blue. Bright. Curious. Erynn felt something inside her shift. A pull she couldn’t explain. “This can’t be…” she whispered, glancing around as if expecting someone to emerge from the trees and claim the child. But there was no one. The baby let out another small cry, her tiny fingers curling in the air. Reaching for something someone. Erynn exhaled sharply. She should leave her. The laws were clear outsiders had no place in the pack. If she took this child back, she would be challenging everything the wolves believed in.

*** Aiden POV I’m talking to Adrian. We are discussing the blood pact with Sinclair. I think he will figure out he is a dumb fool for Sinclair. “Okay, so next week, then?” I asked, and suddenly I felt a pack bond snap. I reached out, and it was Sinclair’s. “What the fuck?” I said loudly. Then Adrian tumbled backward and clutched his chest. “No!” He screamed, and his eyes were frantic and wide. “I, Adrian Willis, Beta of Blackstone, reject Sinclair Cross’s rejection,” he said immediately.

Opened the group chat. Typed. Didn't think about it. Didn't let my brain get into the construction and the wording and the calibration. Just said the true thing in the plainest language available. 'The article is sourced from outside this program and built on implication. If anyone has a direct question, ask me directly. My door's open. Otherwise, game four is Thursday. Let's focus on what matters.' Sent it. Put my phone down. Jaxon was staring at me. 'Here we go.'

I suppose given time their colors would possibly show but until then I will attempt to believe that this Cyrus guy was decent. I set my apartment keys on the kitchen table and hoped that Jem wasn’t going to move them by morning. Why was my life so strange and complicated when it came to the paranormal shit? Why did this happen to me? Of all people, why me? I hardly had any friends to really enjoy a decent day with and when I told them about my ability to “See” the other side. They ended up never speaking to me ever again. It hurt but like all other things I moved on. I hated being alone in all this and not having somebody to talk to about these strange and weird situations. To have someone r

If Holly had any questions on why no one tried to stop her, it was all explained when she reached the outside of the building. Skeletons, more than she could ever count, swarmed over it. They climbed through the windows, they beat down the doors, they clawed through the wall until their bones chipped away. As she walked through, they let her pass. There were so many of the skeletal warriors that Holly couldn't even begin to see the others through it. Her eyes roamed to the upper floors. Would Quix be okay by himself? Would Eros?

I opened my eyes and saw that Kevin had finally arrived, and he had grabbed Dad's arm, kicking him to the ground. "How dare you treat Rene like this! Do you all have a death wish?" Ivan snapped to his senses first and tried to swing a fist at Kevin, but he was sent flying with a kick. Isaac also tried to help, but none of them were a match for Kevin. They were both sent crashing to the floor in loud wails and screeches.

The searchlight hit hard—no shadows, no escape. Melvin and Wayne's twisted expressions hadn't even faded before terror wiped them clean. Wayne yanked the rope off my neck like it burned. "I-It's the rescue team!" The chopper hovered over a flat patch of snow. Doors flew open, and figures in orange gear dropped down fast—like special ops straight out of a movie. Leading them was a tall, broad-shouldered guy. He yanked off his goggles, jaw tight.

The foreign metal riddles his chest, and he is thrown back against the earth he once proudly protected, his blood and flesh to feed the jungle. In his last slivers of life, he hears steps approaching and fights to lift his head, determined to see his opponent. He does not expect to see the face of an outsider, lit gently by a sheaf of shining plants. Indignation surges life back into his body, just long enough to utter, “Thief! Know my name! I am-” The other ensures his kill with a shot to the head. “Monsters do not have names.” Even then, SpearTongue can do nothing but watch, her wide eyes searing the outsider’s face into her mind. She tenses as he takes a step toward her, scrambling for an

He’s already stepping forward, his own power humming under his skin like a storm building pressure. I lift my chin just slightly, eyes narrowing on the distant shapes. They aren’t moving like hikers. They’re too still. Too coordinated. The shadows waver, then solidify, figures, low and lean, spaced like a hunting line. My stomach drops. “Straight ahead,” I say, low but clear enough for everyone. “About forty yards. Maybe more. They’re waiting.” Thalia draws in a slow breath through her teeth. “Of course,” she mutters. “Because nothing about this day could just be simple.”