Brave Frontier Vargas 소설 & 이야기

Carissa followed Rafael on horseback, glancing at the campfires spaced every few steps. Her heart sank at what she observed. The Southern Frontier originally had three hundred thousand soldiers, with another hundred thousand seconded from Victory Pass, totaling four hundred thousand soldiers. From her observations, however, not even half of those numbers were left. Rafael had marched through twenty-three cities, reclaiming all but two. It was clear many soldiers had sacrificed their lives. Outside the command tent, vanguards and lieutenants stood on either side. Their armor was worn, their faces weather-beaten, and their beards unkempt.

I’m getting there, Starfish, we have a breach on the eastern side of the territory. Euan and I are surrounded. I love you. I say before cutting the mind link. You ready for this Junie? Ready whenever you are Covey. It’s time to kick some rogue ass.

Everyone got to their feet. An old man said smilingly, "War Legate Draco, I've always been very interested in Gostia and Partingia, but I never had the chance to conduct research on them. Thank you for fulfilling my dream." "This is Professor Steve Vargas, an archaeologist from Southeast University. He's sixty-two and has a vast knowledge of ancient ruins. He's also brought a few students with him," Mya introduced. Adrian said, "Thank you for your service despite your age."

I raised my chin and made sure my gaze was locked with his as I said… “I, Adaira Varese of the Brookstone pack, reject you, Gav…” I gasped as his hands wrapped around my throat, he moved me backwards and he pressed me against the bars of the closest cell. “One more word out of you and I will wipe out your entire pack, You are mine now, you have always been mine, and you will remain mine.” With that, he leaned down and sank his teeth into my neck.

Then a hand went up. “It’s y equals mx plus b.” I turned toward the voice. The guy sitting next to me was Hispanic. Sharp jawline. Curly hair. Blue eyes. Arms like tree trunks. “That’s correct,” Mrs. Payne said. “And your name?” “Marcelo,” he replied. “My name is Marcelo.”

I shrug. “Okay, I like her.” she points to me and looks at Rhea. “I’m Veronica by the way. Veronica Ryan. Grade B.” “Grade?” I raise a brow, confused. “A Grade basically tells how dangerous a person is. And before you ask, the difference between A’s and B’s is that A’s have committed murder.” “But mine is asterisked?” “It’s never been given before but I’m guessing it means numerous counts of murder.” Yeah. That makes sense.

Her broken jaw was completely healed now and she felt no trouble with it. Alpha Marcus was an arrogant man. He was also a pervert. It was his perverted nature that made him have his basement soundproofed. Adrienne had no doubt that the crash she had made would not be heard by the inhabitants of the floors above. Her only problem was the guards standing right outside.

"This isn't some street gang operation. This is a coordinated military assault on American soil." "Which means we can't fight them like a street gang," Jax replied, his hazel eyes cold with calculation. "Ghost, what do we know about Vargas himself?" Ghost pulled up a file on his main screen, displaying a photograph of a man in his fifties with silver hair and dead eyes. "Eduardo Vargas, age 52, former Colombian military special forces before he went private sector. He's been the cartel's primary enforcer for North American operations for the past decade. Conservative body count estimates put him at over 200 confirmed kills."

His anger showed in the form of his eyes flashing from blue to obsidian and back. "What my sister is trying to say," the pale, red-head intervened with a charming grin and raised hands—for the life of me, I couldn't see how the two were related, "for hers, your packs, and your own safety, its safer for her not to be near battle when she's not prepared for it. For the love of the Goddess, I can see the fear in her eyes," he turned his gentle smile on me with an exuberant wave, "hi, I'm Sylvain. Tania is my mate."

My purpose here is clear: to reclaim what rightfully belongs to me. My name is Nikolai Fedorov, a seasoned assassin who has faithfully served the Bratva for countless years. Renowned for my exceptional skills and unyielding brutality, I have earned a fearsome reputation among our ranks. Having held the esteemed title of Vor within the London Bratva, I now find myself in Chicago, prepared to assume the mantle of Vor for the esteemed Chicago Bratva. As Vor, I bear the weighty responsibility of maintaining order and ensuring strict adherence to the Bratva’s unwavering code of conduct.