Arctic Cold War Novel Novels & Stories

I woke up the next day feeling cold. Marco poured a bucket of cold water on me. "Aren't you supposed to be awake by now?" He asked. I lifted my body and tried to stand up. "What do you want?" I asked and he held my wrist and pressed it. I winced in pain before he released it. "You have a package to deliver for me." He eyed me. "Why can't he send it to DHL?" I asked myself. "What package?" I asked and i got a slap in the face.

A slight smile creeped on my face. Flash back “ Commander Robins, I secured the target, obtained the answers we were looking for. I don’t think the target is of much use to us anymore. It looks as though he is touch and go. I had to use extreme measures to get the answers we sought. He was tight lipped for a while. The primary target is located in the middle of the Arctic, held up on one of the water rigs used for aquamarine sciences. He stated that the target has about 20 armed guards. 3 that follows him wherever he goes. We had schematics of the rig right here, sir.”

“Come one love! Just live a little, will you? Bran is okay with Shone and Sylvia. Besides, he's now a big boy and now he doesn't cry anyhow. I nod in understanding. I'm sleepy and I know Bran will be well taken care of, even if I sleep for three hours. He's not hungry since I've already fed him. I call Sylvia to inform her that I'm going to take a nap and that they should take care of my baby. They both assure me that he'll be okay and I walk up the stairs with Jeff in hot pursuit. Once in the bedroom, I slump on the bed and pull the quilt over. Despite it being day time, it's winter over here and it's extremely cold. All I need is to stay warm. My husband does the same and hurdles himself c

​The Norwegian tundra was a vast, white purgatory where the horizon dissolved into the sky. There was no direction, only the relentless bite of the arctic wind that sliced through thermal layers like a razor. Adrian led the way, his boots finding purchase on the treacherous ice where any other man would have slipped. Clara stayed close, shielded by his massive frame, her hands gripped tightly onto her tablet. They knew that if they stopped, the cold would claim them.

Dawn over the northern ridge broke not with warmth, but with a harsh, glaring pale light that barely sliced through the dense, howling arctic blizzard. The frosted perimeter gates of the outpost groaned loudly on their hydraulic hinges, retracting into the thick concrete walls to expose the vast, white void beyond. Jake accelerated the heavy all-terrain transport through the threshold, its massive reinforced tires grinding against the untouched icy crust of the wild tundra. Within three minutes, the heavy industrial outline of the High Command’s final outpost dissolved completely into the swirling whiteout behind them.

Forty-eight hours. The countdown to the end of the world began not with a roar, but with the synchronized thrumming of a massive, joint-force armada crossing the Arctic Circle. It was a sight that should not exist in nature. A fleet of state-of-the-art, nuclear-powered icebreakers from the Blackwood Corporation, painted in matte-black tactical paint, plowed through the twenty-foot-thick glacial ice, creating a path of dark water. Behind them sailed the Crimson Court’s ancient, reinforced war galleons, their black sails bearing the silver crest of the bleeding bat, looking like ghost ships emerging from the endless fog.

Alexei Waiting is its own kind of war. The cold up here isn't just cold, it’s a living, malicious thing. It chews through armor, through wool, through skin, and settles right in your bones. It’s a patient cold, and it’s been our only companion for six agonizing hours. We lie on our bellies in the snow on the high ridge, a hundred yards above the tunnel mouth. The sun has bled out behind the western peaks, dragging all the light and warmth from the world.

“Did the documents say where they’re running from?” Vanessa tapped her keyboard, pulling up a map. “I’ve traced the remaining fragments of facts to an deserted army set up withinside the Arctic. It’s a black site—off the grid, no records, no oversight. If Nyx is anywhere, it’s there.” The Arctic Fortress The Arctic became unforgiving, its icy expanse a stark reminder of the isolation Nyx had cultivated. Vanessa’s intel counselled the set up and became buried underneath the ice, reachable handiest via means of an unmarried runway and a community of underground tunnels.

Chapter Five: The Ice Between Us The Arctic sky was the color of bone. Roman guided the small cargo plane low across the barren tundra, the controls trembling under his fingers as the wind shrieked past the fuselage. Eden sat beside him, silent and tense, her eyes locked on the endless white stretching ahead. Beneath them, the Earth felt abandoned—an exile wrapped in snow and silence. They were flying toward the edge of the world. Toward the only man who had ever outlived Valeska Dormer.

Chapter 82: The Scent of Justice The cold that clung to the mountains felt different now. It wasn’t the sharp, cutting cold of dawn anymore. It had settled into something duller, heavier—like the world itself was holding its breath. From the ridge where Luca and Ethan crouched, the entire St. Bernard Pass lay exposed beneath them, a thin white scar along the mountainside. Hours earlier, the place had been a battleground of panic, gunfire, and survival. Now it moved with the quiet precision of a federal operation.