Blackstone Legion Novels & Stories

After all, how could a group of people go against a country? The Lowell family had extensive connections in the military, and Russell was one of them. To Pierre, asking Russell to help the Crimson Titans seemed a simple task. "Blake, you can't underestimate this matter just because I'm handling it easily. The Legion of the Unbreakable is still the top power in the warzone. "While they're no threat to us, they can easily wipe out an ordinary family," Pierre said to Blake as he sipped his tea. As Blake would be the future head of the family, Pierre would always guide him whenever he could.

"I don't sense any darkness within her." "Dante?" Chloe looked between Lucas and Dagmar. "Who is Dante?" "Dante was a demon." Lucas replied. "A few years back he tried to create an army of hybrids including demon-werewolves. He was defeated but not before he succeeded in fathering two demon-werewolf hybrids." "That we know of." Ursula interjected. "No one knows for sure if there are anymore or not." "So, you think I'm part demon?" Chloe asked slowly, not totally believing what she was hearing.

In a remote corner of the countryside, nestled among towering trees and lush greenery, stood the imposing silhouette of a grand mansion. This was the home of Seth Griffin, Alpha of the Moonlit pack, and Alpha of Alphas on this continent. Seth sat in his study, hunched over as if his shoulders literally felt the burden of the responsibilities of his leadership. His features etched with determination as he dialed a familiar number on his phone. He had been putting off this conversation for far too long, but the time had come to pass the torch to the next generation. Even Seth could no longer deny this fate.

Adrian commanded softly. Luca’s heart leaped into his throat. "What?" "I told you the rules get harder, Luca. You wanted to prove you aren't a pet. You wanted to trespass into my space, to break my things, to mock my house," Adrian said, walking slowly toward the edge of the bed. His voice was entirely devoid of anger, which only made it more terrifying. It was the calm of a man who had already decided exactly how to dismantle his opponent. "You want to live like a rebel, but you forget that you signed a contract. Every act of defiance has a price. And tonight, I am collecting."

Aera, Gray’s mate, grabbed his hand and gave it a squeeze as if silently telling him that she would take over from there, seeing that he was losing his temper. “What Gray means to say is that he has a lot on his hands. We’re all rogues—whether you were rejected, banished, or you ran away—and we’re all the same in the eyes of those people who still have their packs. This is not just any attack, as you all know that we don’t attack for nothing. We’re attacking Crimson Moon because of what they did to our loved ones. Who here has lost a loved one because of the attack they brought upon us a fortnight ago?”

It felt nice to finally care about someone other than my mum. Especially someone as hot and sexy as that. I don't drive to my apartment immediately, I instead divert from the road, parking on the path that led to the organization's underground tunnel after making sure I wasn't being followed. Me and of my two friends successfully formed an organization of extremely deadly rebels and assassins who were seeking revenge and a total takeover of the Bloodmoon pack from the Whitefang pack.From when we were little, we had each harbored plans of bringing change to our pack, to stop the injustice and seek a fierce revenge that would shock all the southern packs.

I was somewhere else. A battlefield. Blood soaked the earth. Bodies lay scattered, warriors with torn banners clutched in lifeless hands. The sky above swirled with black clouds, lightning flashing in jagged streaks. At the center of it all stood a man. Tall. Dressed in dark armor, his face obscured by a crown of jagged bone. The Hollow King. His eyes burned like molten gold, the same way the Revenant’s had. He lifted a blade—the same dagger Rael had just taken.

When they demand naming rights, legacy claims, power over something I created in heartbreak? She gripped the balcony railing so hard her knuckles blanched. Because she knew—they would come. Lycan emissaries. Royal vultures. Elders with their righteous declarations. The child wouldn’t be just hers for long. And then, a quiet, terrible voice surfaced—her mother’s again, from long ago, spoken during a blood moon rebellion: "Then we remind them why the world once bowed to our name." Nyma swallowed hard. Her back straightened.