Bladewolf Metal Gear Novels & Stories

​I rounded the corner into the dining room, my rifle leveled. ​Standing in the center of the room, surrounded by shards of glass that shimmered like diamonds in the red light, was a man. He was tall, thin, and dressed in a suit of matte-gray liquid armor that seemed to absorb the light around him. He wasn't holding a gun. He was holding a pair of curved, mono-molecular wire-blades that hummed with a low, lethal vibration. ​But it was his eyes that froze the blood in my veins. They were the same matte silver as Kai’s.

We thought we had killed them all. Rivers of blood soaked the ground and flowed between the trees in the forest south of Scarlet Moon. Torn and broken bodies littered our path as we retreated to the safety of the only pack Sebastian trusted with those most precious to him. We limped through the gates, bloody and battle weary after taking on at least five men a piece. Unbeknownst to us at the time, one man survived, Blue Blade, named for the unique and deadly weapon he wields. He is the one who sends rogues to the border, taunting me, letting me know he is still out there, waiting for me to blink so he can strike.

Luke screams through the mind link but I don't even respond because my focus is on my mate and how should I get her out from this filthy place. Another rogue tries to scamper away but I extend my claws and swipe my paw at the rogue's paw. "Maddox watch out !"Bloom screams at me . I turn my head to see a female rogue in human form trying to ram her knife into me . My movements are slow because I don't have time to register the attack. " Maddox!"Bloom screams again and jumps with all her strength Infront of me .The sliver coated knife with wolfsbane goes straight into her stomach and her tiny body lands on the ground with a loud thud .

I exclaimed. “What, you never witnessed that back at Grey Wolf?” He looked at me, smiling. “I did, but I never did it myself,” I replied. “And to be honest, never thought I’d witness it again.” “It goes great with my favorite Russian phrase.” Blake had a glint in his eyes. He turned to the other poor bastard, who was convulsing uncontrollably in fear. As Blake’s warriors struggled to hold him down, a puddle formed on the floor from him pissing himself. Blake just as swiftly sliced his dick off and yelled, “Hui tebé v rot!” as he did the same thing again, shoving it into his companion’s mouth.

He says, and stands in front of us. Gaza holds out a blade. “Hold out your hands.” Lysandra and I extend our palms. My wolf claws at my mind, he disagrees. But I push him away. This is the only way. There is no other choice. His silver eyes access us, looking for confirmation that we know what this is, and that we are sure of it. When he finds what he’s looking for, he presses the blade into our palms. Lysandra winces. But I don’t feel it. Nothing can hurt me again. The snapping of the mate bond was enough pain to last a lifetime.

“Hold!” The first impact hit like a storm—steel against claw, bone against rage. The ridge exploded in chaos. I drew the blade from my thigh strap, ducked a swing, and drove it through the ribs of the nearest attacker. He didn’t bleed red. His blood was black. Thick. And it hissed when it hit the earth. The smell was unbearable—rot and iron and something that felt like old graves. Kael was in the middle of it, his wolf half-shifted, golden eyes wild. Every movement was precise destruction, every strike a promise.

Mikhail raised his eyebrows amused. "You are wearing the shield named Damon, sister in law... I would love to see your confidence without his name..." Mira gritted as anger travelled in her body. "Unfortunately your wife doesn't have that shield..." She spat. Mikhail gritted and stepped towards her threateningly. "Touch her and you will realise how strong her shield is..." Mira let out a mocking smirking chuckle.

“Fine. You want in, you’re in.” They went to the armory room in the back of the club. Metal shelves lined with firearms, ammunition, and knives gleamed in the low light. Amy’s fingers skimmed along the collection before she pulled down a polished Colt 1911 and a snub-nosed revolver. Isadora grinned and took her favorites — a black Beretta M1951 and a sawed-off shotgun with a worn leather strap. “You ever notice,” Isadora said as she checked the Beretta’s magazine, “that people like us never really retire?”

Her voice cracked with panic. "Kill that bitch now!" The remaining six wolves rushed forward simultaneously. They leaped into the air. Shifting completely mid jump. I could barely focus. The world had become hazy. Then suddenly— A silver blur flew over my head. A massive shadow collided with the leading attacker. The impact shattered bones. The wolf screamed before being ripped apart. I blinked. My vision swam. And then realization struck. The dizziness. The weakness. The burning wounds. Silver. Their claws had been reinforced with silver blades.

I lunged forward, my daggers slicing through the rogue's weapon arm before he could force the gears to turn manually. The motion is swift, brutal, and utterly merciless, the steel blades humming with alpha fury as they cleave through heavy leather and muscle with effortless precision. A sharp cry of agony escapes the saboteur's lips as his mutilated arm drops uselessly to his side, the detonator tumbling from his nerveless fingers to bounce harmlessly against the straw-covered flagstones.