Assassin Creed Hood Novels & Stories

“Claude?’ he said, gripping the younger man’s arm, firm but strong. Claude looked a little disconcerted. Turning to Schwartz, he said, “We’ve… Paddy has… managed to track down…Jana Rudenko.” Dusk fell like a velvet shroud over the ancient stone alleys of Kotor. The sea, just beyond the crumbling rooftops, reflected blood-red streaks of the dying sun. Three assassins moved like shadows through the narrow streets, silent and focused. They were closing in — their prey just ahead, wounded, hidden, vulnerable. They had heard the women run, had been following her, Hila Zaidi and the girl who was the daughter of the dead McLeod. But something felt wrong.

I spun suddenly—just as something emerged out of the darkness. Tall. Cloaked. Not Blackfang. Ronan's. --- The Assassin My heart was pounding, every muscle clenching as I backed away. "Who are you?" My voice is more steady than I expected. The hooded one remained silent. He stepped closer—silent, deliberate. Then—he struck. I dodged, barely. Claws swooped through the air, biting where my throat had been an instant before. Too fast. I stumbled backward, sending a chair crashing to the floor.

An overwhelming murderous aura started bearing down on him. Jay made a few rotations at lightning speed and dodged the assassin's cold blade. Jay looked at the assassin who was wearing a black stealth suit and had a hood over his head. His mouth, nose, and eyes were covered firmly. The thought of him hiding in Angeline's bed last night sent a burst of anger spurting from the depths of his heart. His eyes exuded an ice-cold aura. "Let me see your face." He clenched his fist, shifted his position, and started galloping on the rounded wall like a gecko, attacking the assassin from the side.

His hand went to his blade, and my pulse quickened. “I know,” I whispered, my own hand reaching for the hilt of my weapon. I felt the shift in the air, the unnatural stillness that had descended around them. It was too quiet, too perfect. Something was watching them, waiting. And then, from the darkness, the assassin’s emerged, a shadow against the storm. Their movements were swift and sure, their faces hidden beneath the hood of a cloak. They were dressed in black, their posture predatory, and in their hands, the blade shimmered cold and deadly.

He landed lightly on the ground just a few feet away from Aria. Tall. Dressed in dark armor. His face hidden beneath a hood. But his presence was cold and deadly. The warriors moved to surround him. The assassin didn't seem concerned. His gaze locked directly onto Aria. "So..." he said calmly. "There you are." Aria rose slowly, her silver eyes glowing faintly. "Who are you?" The assassin tilted his head slightly. "Just someone sent to test a legend." Without warning, he attacked. His speed shocked

My brother asks as we make our way into the garage’s living area. Years ago, Priest converted an old warehouse in the outskirts of Manhattan to rehab cars. He lived there until he met his wife Sage and lost his best friend, the now-deceased former Confradia tech, Hunter Cohen. Before I came around, Hunter was the Confradia’s prime hacker. Now, I’m one of their top techs. But unlike Hunter, I trained and became an assassin. After Hunter’s death, the garage was used by visiting Confradia Assassins to stay at and for Confradia meetings.

Logan nods his head in Penelope’s direction and precedes me out of the room. It didn’t take long for us to get to Sao Paolo. Due to the discretion of our mission, we had to find a place for us to reconnoiter. Thankfully, I have a few friends who owe me favors, and I quickly found an empty home for us to set up. When it comes to working with a company that kills people for a living, I’ve made sure to always have a contingency plan. As I step into the house’s interior, I adjust my equipment and look out the window. Voodoo cannot go to the office for another hour, which means we have time to wait. Apparently, Irving likes to meet his Assassins at specific times. We assume it’s because he wants

He was done being restrained. Aaron Mortem first. The broken nose had been Honor’s work, which Gabriel respected, but the words that had preceded it were his to answer for. He watched football practice from the shadow of the bleachers, arms folded, assessing. Aaron was the quarterback — decent arm, reasonable instincts, the kind of athlete who coasted on physical gifts without ever being pushed hard enough to find out if there was anything real underneath. As a wolf he was underwhelming. The supernatural DNA was there — Gabriel could smell it, diluted and uncertain, the heritage of a rogue line that had never been properly trained. He doubted the kid could fully shift. He doubted the kid had

And I rose in a blaze of celestial light. ◇◇◇◇◇◇ Back in the courtyard, the runes flared violently. A hooded figure leapt toward the dais, plunging a dark blade into its glowing core. “Stop him!” Caden roared. The crowd erupted into chaos..Ryker moved with lethal speed, intercepting the attacker. Their blades clashed in a violent arc of sparks. The assassin’s hood fell back. Gasps rippled through the assembly. As the hooded figure happens to be Elder Marcus.

It was fast, darting through the confusion like a ghost. Instinct kicked in. I launched myself forward, dragging Nora behind me. The blade bit into flesh-not hers. Pain exploded through my chest. I heard her scream, her voice ripping through the night as I fell to my knees. Warm blood spread under my hand, soaking my skin. The scent of silver and iron filled my lungs. “Nora—” I choked, my vision blurring. The hood fell away from the assassin's face, showing one of the younger warriors, eyes empty, his veins blackened with poison. Controlled. Marked. Someone had sent him.