Assassin Clone Wars Novels & Stories

Finally, I turned to look at him. I let my gaze trail over his taper fade, the messy blond hair that refused to behave and those stupid innocent blue eyes that made people trust him instantly. He had the face of a saint, smooth lines, sharp cheekbones, a mouth that curled too easily into a smile that could make anyone feel safe. But Olek wasn’t safe. He was the Syndicate’s golden boy; the number one assassin, top of the kill board for ten damn years. I was fifth, which wasn’t bad considering I’d only been in the game for six years.

I’m not technically her rider, but I am her mate, and so I had done what I could do to show her that she’s mine, no matter what. When I had stripped her down, I’d seen the burn marks, the bruises. I didn’t say anything to her and I didn’t say anything to Avani when we found the dead witch and warlock beheaded the next day, but I’m pretty sure I’ve found my assassin. It’s my mate.

“Mercenaries, for lack of a better term. We’re highly trained, and it’s all we knew. The fighting, the killing, but at least now we get to choose who we do it for. We’ve been using our services to help right some of the imbalance that we created.” He seemed to finally be saying the things that were bubbling up inside him. The things that I kept cutting him off from saying. That, or he was trying to throw me off, use a trick to try to gain my trust and confidence. It wouldn’t work. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to be a bit more specific.” “Have you heard of The Silent Assassin? He went by many names.” His head shifted so that he looked over his shoulder.

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

Slowly, I sat opposite him, before placing both of my hands on the table. Beta Aslan did the same then the room went silent. Clearing his throat, my mate said coldly: “I should have expected what just happened from the beginning when Anderson told me that a bunch of uncivilized rogues was coming for a mission I wasn't sure undisciplined and immature children like you people could achieve," My heart stopped and anger rushed through my veins. There he was attacking me again when it wasn't needed. Luna! Were we always going to be jumping at each other's throats? Trying my best to keep my cool, I asked calmly:

The clone stepped inside the bearkin's reach and drove a fist into the warrior's ribs, a blow so fast and heavy it sounded like a cannon shot. The bear-kin was thrown backward, gasping for air as his chest caved in. "Conventional trauma will not stop them!" I shouted, watching three more clones swarm a wolf-kin fighter. "They heal too fast!" Ashren met the charge of the clone head-on. He grappled with one of his own grey-skinned mirrors. The sheer physical strength of the two titans colliding cracked the marble floor beneath their feet. The clone swung a brutal right hook; Ashren caught it, his muscles bulging as he fought the stolen strength of his own bloodline.

I asked her. “Of course. Most of the men have already been tailored. Their harness looks just what you would think a shoulder harness would look like but as you shift it drapes across your shoulder. I can also make one that as you shift takes on the form of a bulletproof vest for your wolf. It is just based on preference.” She stated. “Willamina!” I said excitedly before grabbing hold of her shoulders and looking deep into her eyes. “Can I please clone you? I mean I would like nothing more than to make a million of you. Have you thought about creating your shop?” I asked her.

I want to make him respond, but I know that it’s not the time to ask. Our communicators signal a message from Jaxon at that moment. “Fall in Assassins. I have visual from the ground of female captives. This is a recovery mission, but if you’re threatened, shoot to kill. Sources confirmed that Lynch and Waltman are in the building. If you get an opportunity, capture them and bring them in for questioning.” As soon as Jaxon gives his order, we rush out of the warehouse, careful to remain in the shadows until we reach the docks. The people inside of the warehouse continue with their tasks, completely unaware that we are there.

But Amara’s gaze stayed locked on the clone — the one that looked like her. “Why did they make you?” she whispered. The clone smiled faintly. “Because you wouldn’t kneel.” Before Amara could react, the clone’s hand pressed against the glass — and shattered it with inhuman strength. The explosion of pressure sent Amara flying backward. Luca caught her mid-fall as Cassian opened fire. Bullets tore through the chamber, but the clone didn’t fall — she absorbed them, her body healing as fast as it was breaking. “Retreat!” Cassian shouted.

He rose with brutal force, clawing across the clone’s chest, each strike heavier, more desperate. The fight dragged on — claws tearing flesh, teeth ripping fur, both staggering, bloodied but unyielding. The cavern echoed with the sound of wolves locked in a duel for dominance. At last, Aeron saw the falter. The clone’s strikes grew sloppy, his stance wavering. Aeron seized the moment — slammed him against the stone, fangs sinking deep into his throat. The clone convulsed, then went limp. Aeron ripped away and let the body fall, panting, his muzzle dripping red. The imposter twitched once, then lay unconscious, defeated.