Assassin's Creed Jacob Frye Novels & Stories

Argent’s man, Anarchy, opened the door and retreated to Argent’s office as soon as Violet and Lyria showed up. Anarchy is another gorgeous Assassin that recently transferred from the Canadian division. With his high cheekbones, deep merlot-colored hair, and intense eyes the color of the ocean at dawn, he’s quite a sight to see. We quickly found out that he’s not much of a talker. He’s more the tall, silent type, which was fine by me. We also discovered that he’s uncomfortable with female attention. I give both women a wan smile and take a sip of wine. The scarlet liquid sloshes gently across the rim, letting off a fruity scent.

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

“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.

He said. “First is Bacchus. His real name is George Miller, one of the gang leader’s right hand. Then Atlas, real name is Mario Ching. He is their intelligence. Minotaur, real name is Fred Lim. I think he’s one of their snipers. Cupid is Jay Kenley. He’s their hacker. And Pegasus is Jacob Frias, best in hand to hand combat.” Miko announced. “Let’s hope that they are the only one here.” I said.

he yawned, waving his hand dismissively, "Raphael will be back to finish the job." Nate felt his lips begin to quiver again. "What do you mean finish the job?" "The obvious—to kill you." When he saw Nate's gaze widen, he added, "Both of you." His gaze scrutinized Nate's features, squeezing his lips together as he eyed him from his feet all the way to his ginger curls, but then sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "It's unfortunate, you would have been really useful. You're kind of cute too."

I thought I could handle this on my own, thought I could bring Zephyr back without assistance because I’m her mate, but it's not enough. “Did you see the person? Did you see the assassin?” Avani snarls. I look at him, knowing this will hurt him nearly as much as it hurts me. “It’s Zephyr, Avani. She’s the assassin.” He falls back on his butt. “What? Are you sure?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why would she do this? Why would she kill these shifters?” Cedric asks. “They got to her,” Avani says as realization dawns on him and he looks at me. He and I have worked together long enough. We understand each other without words.

The assassin did not sound certain. Metal Mask frowned in displeasure. “Assassin E3 has died by suicide,” the assassin whispered. He felt unsure of everything. This time, Metal Mask was absolutely dumbfounded. That person had made a sovereign grade fighter take his own life? How powerful was that person? “Who is he?” “He’s a twenty-five-year-old young man who’s from the Wyatt family of Rivenesco, Lannopolis. His name is Dustin Fox, and he was the only student of Lucas Wyatt, the previous patriarch of the Wyatt family.”

"Don't make things difficult for us, okay? Be good and come with us!" He turned to Frederick, and added, "As for you… You should kill yourself. That's the easiest way to die. We won't be gentle if we have to deal with you!" Lycan cackled. "I used to be an executioner, you know? I'm proficient in the art of ancient torture. I promise to make your death quite artistic!" Jasmine's gaze suddenly sharpened. "Do you really think we're helpless lambs, ready to be slaughtered?"

Furthermore, I will enter smuggling. “Are you worried now?” I said to Kerwyn who just leaned down. He turned around, he knew me because I was also his classmate. "Ian of Red Assassins," I said reaching out my hand. "Yeah, I know you. Kerwyn of Rubicund." He accepted my hand. I leaned over him and looked down looked at Stys and Dark. “I know a way to squeeze the Stygian,” I said. "Really?" "Impossible but possible." "Why are you telling me?"

His fingers gripped the side of the earth as the crack broke open a bit more. “I don’t care to die.” Elijah spat and a humorless chuckle escaped Rhyland. I felt another pair of hands against me and I spun around and found Cassius. He took a knife to try and slice through the searing ropes wrapped around my wrists but to no avail. “Who planned this little.... failed attempt? After your blood paints these stones I’ll be sure to go for them next.” The tone Rhyland used was something out of a horror movie, holding not threats but promises in its wake.