Blitzo X Striker Novels & Stories

Blaze gasps, struggling against the arms holding him. “Let him go, you fucking bastards—!” I shout, thrashing, trying to get free. Another fist to my ribs. Pain shoots through me. I choke. “Stay the fuck down,” the leader barks. “You move, he dies.” I freeze. Blaze is dragged to the middle of the room, half-naked, blood at the corner of his mouth, breathing hard. His eyes meet mine—panicked. Furious. I try to steady my voice. “What the fuck do you want?”

Reluctantly, Blaze releases his grip on Tyler, stepping back to stand beside Alexa. Tyler adjusts his jacket, scoffing and muttering under his breath, "Certified lover boy!" The remark strikes a nerve within Blaze, igniting a surge of anger coursing through his veins. In a fit of rage, Blaze lunges at Tyler, landing a powerful punch that sends him crashing to the floor. Tyler, annoyed and humiliated, fixes Blaze with a death glare as he struggles to regain his footing.

Watch out for “Striking Blow.” (Strike Zone Book #2) This is Pearl and Antonio’s story. Filled with international intrigue and subterfuge. Striking Blow Colombo. Sri Lanka. Pearl needed directions—a map—a freaking GPS back to herself. Finding her worth again meant starting with a physical transformation. For starters, the blonde princess staring back at her in the mirror wasn’t real, and it was time to pack “socialite barbie” away in a dark drawer; time to step away from the two-hundred-dollar haircut and her designer lifestyle.

The water spout, as wild and powerful as a tornado, crashed down, snuffing out the flames instantly. Gasps of astonishment rippled through the crowd. Rendok's face turned pale with shock. "I'm no ordinary werewolf. I guess you didn't do your research," Blaze said, his voice dripping with mockery and contempt. Blaze raised his hands, and from his palms, brilliant light beams shot out, piercing through the air with deadly precision. The dragons became targets in his deadly game, each beam striking with unerring accuracy.

“He’s after the parts of us that still believe we can build something better.” Chito looked between us, one hand twitching toward the hilt on his hip, his voice low, not quite whispering. “Striker’s not just a threat, he’s a prophecy with teeth. He doesn’t hunt like the Broker did. He dismantles belief, carves it out of people until they bleed obedience.” Nova stepped into the circle then, her presence unnervingly calm, her silver eyes flicking toward the dark line of trees just beyond the compound. “He’s not hiding,” she said. “He wants to be seen. He wants you afraid before the first move.”