Armored Squadron 소설 & 이야기

Aiden had always thought his true nature of being a shifter would never be a problem since his mother was human. Working for the Assassination Southern Squadron he finds himself wrapped up in family bonds that he never knew of. Will revenge for his mother outweigh his need to connect with family and possibly be able to embrace his wolf for the very first time?

It was the climactic moment of my game, but the enemy's flash bang blinded me. After I reopened my eyes, I found myself in the world of the post-apocalyptic underdog comeback story I'd ranted about to my friend the day before. No, I wasn't the protagonist with a cheat for a system. Instead, I was the cannon fodder who suffered the worst fate. He also had my name. I found myself locked outside the armored vehicle while a swarm of high-level zombies had surrounded me. 'Blast,' I thought. 'All this just because I flamed them? And I just made a pentakill after my 8-win streak!' I told myself to calm down and let my mind do its work, but then the laughter of this body's wife echoed from the walkie-talkie. "Stop covering for him, gunners! We're livestreaming to the whole camp. My husband's going to rip these Tier Six zombies to shreds!" Then, the woman's useless male best friend buzzed with excitement. "I'll have a permanent spot in the inner city if he distracts the horde and they rip him apart in the process, babe!" If this went the way of the original story, I'd beg for help only to get no answer and be ripped apart by the zombies. Fortunately, I wasn't the same coward this guy used to be. The woman kept egging me on. I sneered. I didn't spend years playing competitive games for nothing. And so, I grabbed a high-frequency concussion grenade that could get the attention of every single zombie in a 3-mile radius, smashed the ventilation valve of the armored vehicle, and hurled the grenade inside.

Half a month ago, I found out my husband, Vincent, was cheating on me. I accidentally discovered an encrypted burner phone hidden in a secret compartment of his armored SUV. Inside were dozens of explicit photos and countless graphic, flirtatious texts. The other person was his hot chief secretary, Chloe. The fairy tale was shattered by reality. I looked at the positive pregnancy test in my hand and calmly threw it into the trash can. I put the phone back exactly as I found it. That very day, I had my lawyer draft the divorce papers and signed my name, stroke by stroke. I opened my phone and replied to an email:[Professor, I officially accept the invitation to the Zurich Institute.] This time, I won't look back.

I spent six months and a quarter million dollars to secure a week in Sicily. But when my husband’s childhood obsession, Chiara, cried nostalgia into his ear, Dante didn’t hesitate. He removed my name from the armored motorcade roster and replaced it with hers. He told me to take a commercial flight alone through rival family territory—a route where three associates had “disappeared” last month. The entire famiglia supported Dante’s decision without a single thought for my safety. So I changed my itinerary. I boarded a plane to Monaco instead of Palermo. I spent three months at the roulette tables, ignoring their frantic calls. That was when the famiglia started to bleed…

I am the most secret Principessa of the Sicilian "Shepherd" Mafia. For my safety, my identity was a closely guarded secret since birth. I lived in the shadows, leaving the outside world entirely ignorant of my true standing. On my wedding day, my mafia fiancé allowed his female bodyguard to feed my family's heirloom token to his dog. He mocked me for coming from some "backwater" family, claiming I wasn't worthy to be his bride. He even threatened to wipe my family off the map.. Looking this, I simply made a single phone call. Moments later, armored vehicles crashed through the estate gates, and our family’s chief Consigliere knelt me in front of the terrified crowd:"Principessa, your father sent us to bring you home." It was only at that moment that my arrogant fiancé finally understood. The woman he had humiliated was the sole heir to the "Shepherd" family that controlled the European arms trade. But it was too late for regrets.

Sonia Martinez, 20, has eyes that have seen too much and a heart armored by a childhood scarred by domestic warfare. Screams, slammed doors, and broken promises defined her early years, teaching her that love is a dangerous illusion. Emotional walls weren't a choice—they were survival. While others dreamed of romance, Sonia became a fortress, determined never to fall victim to heartbreak. Then comes Alex Rodriguez—charming, persistent, and exactly the kind of man she’s sworn to avoid. Their first meeting crackles with tension; the second ignites a chemistry too intense to ignore. But Sonia is no easy conquest. To her, relationships are emotional landmines, and she’s not about to let her guard down. Yet Alex isn’t easily shaken. With a shadowed past and secrets of his own, he’s determined to prove that not all love stories end in pain. As danger looms and old wounds resurface, Sonia faces a pivotal choice: cling to the safety of her walls or risk everything for a chance at healing. Their story isn’t just about falling in love—it’s about surviving it.

My world ended when my mate’s brother died. Caspian, Alpha of the Shadowmoon Pack, took in the widow, Vivian. He said it was his duty to provide for both households. He sent her son to the elite Lunaris Academy. He sent my son to the toxic Grey Zone, called it "building resilience." He gifted her the Blackwood Manor, bought her armored vehicles. He called me wasteful. He said my child was a burden. He threw us into the Omega slums. My son died fighting for a moldy crust of silver-tainted bread. I died soon after. My skull was cracked open in a dark alley for a few coins. As my spirit faded, I finally saw the truth. Every step of our ruin was her design. I woke up gasping, back in my old bed at the Shadowmoon Packhouse. The moon was high. Tomorrow was my Binding Ceremony to Caspian. This time, I knew what to do.

Michelle, an omega everyone looked down on, was rejected by the Alpha she thought was her fated mate, broken and humiliated before her pack. But pain planted a hunger – a desperate desire to become powerful. One night, beneath the moonlight, everything changed. A figure emerged – tall, pale, ancient. Her crimson eyes glowed like dying embers. “Who are you?” Michelle stammered. “Someone who can give you power,” the woman said. Michelle froze, torn between fear and temptation. “What do you want?” “Your trust. Come with me to my realm. You’ll never be weak again.” The world dissolved. Michelle’s soul was torn from her body, and she opened her eyes in another world. Skies shimmered crimson and gold. Black castles floated above glowing rivers. Armored beings bowed. A Golren in obsidian armor knelt. “Queen Erin,” he said. “We’re glad to have you back.” Michelle blinked. “I’m Michelle, not Erin.” The Golren’s eyes gleamed with reverence. “You are Erin – our creator, our goddess.” Michelle’s breath caught. Creator? Goddess? Something ancient stirred....

I was a top-tier heart surgeon. The kind they gave a government-issued black SUV with diplomatic plates—armored, red-light-skipping, cleared-for-anything kind of ride. I parked it at my fiancé Marco Varonetti's place so he could keep it in shape. Bad call. One day, I got an emergency call: heart transplant for the Chancellor—yeah, that Chancellor, the one with state secrets ticking inside him. I rushed over to Marco's to grab the car. Right as I was about to leave, some rando slid into the back seat like she owned it. "Mall first. I need a mani," she barked. "Then get the ice cream Marco ordered. If it melts, I'll kill you." Excuse me? "This is my car," I said, trying to stay chill. "I've got a critical airport run. You need to get out." She rolled her eyes. "You're just the driver. Open those eyes and check the plate." Then the maid chimed in. "Everyone knows Mr. Varonetti takes Ms. Caro out in this car. Nobody says a word." I froze. Marco used my federally issued SUV... to chauffeur her? This wasn't just messy. This was criminal.

There's an unwritten rule in the Chicago Outfit. The Don never keeps a mistress for more than a hundred days. When the hundred days are up, the women he’s finished with always take the money and leave quietly. Once, someone asked him, unwilling to accept it: “Why?” Santino Falcone smiled softly.“Because I love my wife.” Everyone knew that his wife of seven years was his weak spot. But this new mistress wouldn’t behave.Emboldened by his favor, she sent me a taunting text message. “Arabella, isn’t your husband cute when he’s asleep in my arms?I’ve got plenty more photos. I can send them to you if you want.” “I’m his one true love. If you know what’s good for you, you’ll step down and give me your place as his wife.” I didn’t argue with her.Instead, I generously gave her my wedding ring. Because what she didn't know was that I had gotten my memory back. I was never the orphan Santino saved. I am the long-lost princess of New York’s most powerful family, missing for seven years. In three days, my brother Matteo’s armored motorcade will arrive in Chicago to take me home.