Anbu Black Ops Mask Novels & Stories

He simply accepted her words with a short, sharp bow of his head. “I’ll be back soon,” he said. “Try to rest.” Anna managed a weak smile as he stepped out. The moment the door clicked shut and the lock turned, the mask fell away. Anthony’s face hardened into a mask of cold stone. His eyes darkened, a predatory spark lighting up the iris. This was the version of himself he had fought so hard to bury—the man he never wanted Anna to see. But his mother’s killer was back.

I growled all over the place. “Mabel!” I called to the woman who was in a mask, and she rushed to where I was. There was no need to hide her identity anymore, and she removed her mask, revealing a beautiful lady with blue eyes and wavy reddish-black hair. At the time, Ansel was occupied helping his brother to fight Michael, forgetting about us. “Take this.” I handed her a black and sharp weapon filled with coated silver and a more poisonous drug that could paralyze any wolf, no matter how strong they were.

He alerted his team and assured me that everything was fine there. I walked towards the door but stopped immediately when something caught my eyes. Some black fabric was hanging behind the frame. Jacob's a minimalist when it comes to his home decorations. I turned and walked to the frame hanging on the wall. I carefully removed it. "Bloody hell." I murmured as I saw Mamba's mask. I gulped. Jacob saw it. He has the mask all along and he never mentioned or asked anything about it. I removed the mask on the hook and hid it in my jacket's secret pocket.

"Maybe not. The decision is up to you. I just did it for your information but I hope we're inside the hideout. Outside let's go back to the past and our hidden Identity, is it clear?" "Yes!" the women answered at once. Everyone had fun. "Guys, do you agree that we should remove our masks at the same time?" Astra asked happily. Dindo is just waiting to see what happens next. He wanted to approach and hug Amore but he felt embarrassed. He was contented to just watch his friend first. He was also happy because she was safe. It’s his fault why she almost perished at Regor’s hands. "Are you all ready? One, two, three-," Astra said then they removed the masks at the same time.

I turned, my black lace mask shielding my eyes, but not the smirk that tugged at my lips. The man before me wore a simple silver mask that accentuated the sharp line of his jaw and the shadow of stubble. Tall, broad-shouldered, his black shirt clung to a chest that spoke of power, not just from suits but from real control. In this place, Nocturne, where masks hid faces and secrets fueled the night, anonymity was the only rule.

I began, my voice laced with curiosity, "could you tell me more about the Alpha of the Black Moon Clan? What kind of person is he?" The servant's expression shifted, her eyes flickering with a strange mix of discomfort and uncertainty. "Ah, the Alpha of the Black Moon Clan," she started cautiously, "His name is Theobald Bastian, he's quite... unique. He wears a mask over half of his face, so no one has actually seen his true appearance." I furrowed my brows, puzzled by this revelation. A masked Alpha was certainly an unusual sight, and it only deepened the air of mystery surrounding him. "A mask? Why would he hide his face like that?"

"We need to remain the 'Hidden Faces.' The myth is more effective than the celebrity." The team adopted the "Masked Protocol." When operating under the LNI banner, they wore tactical gear reinforced with Aether-dampening mesh and high-impact masks that obscured their identities while projecting the LNI emblem. They were to be seen as a force of nature - faceless, efficient, and undeniable.

The question is, will I survive? The guard suddenly rushes in. He points at me and throws me something, which I quickly catch. “Put that on. Alpha Zao wants to see that on you.” “What…is it?” I ask, standing up. “A mask? I don’t know,” he says with anger. I look at it. It’s a tasseled nose‑and‑mouth mask. The dangling tassels are made with rhinestones, and the bottom part curves into a V shape that frames my jaw and chin when I put it on.

The arena shook with cheers. "The Alpha King!" My heart began beating harder and I lowered my head and checked my armor. The leather chest guard sat tightly against my body. Silver plates covered my shoulders and upper arms. My black trousers were tucked into my boots, and a belt held my sword securely against my hip. My dark hair fell freely down my back. I had refused to tie it. Instead, I wore a simple black mask over the upper half of my face. If I was going to fight, I wanted as little of my identity exposed as possible.

Inside, nestled on a velvet cushion, lay the Mask of Fortuna. My breath hitched in my throat as I gazed upon it. The mask was an eerie thing of beauty, crafted from polished obsidian that gleamed under the dim light, its surface sleek and reflective. It was as if it had been pulled straight from the depths of some ancient world. Crimson rubies and emerald sapphires adorned it, set delicately in gold filigree, their fiery hues sparkling as I leaned closer. The intricate Roman symbols etched along its edges seemed to pulse with some forgotten power—laurel wreaths and the ever-turning wheel of Fortuna, as if the mask itself held the whims of fate in its design.