Brindleface Warriors Novels & Stories

All the ministers stood up at once, worry and anxiety taking over them. The only two people who remained calm in this chaotic situation were Dimitri and Commander Kristoff who had been silent since the time he had entered the courtroom. He had long predicted this outcome and he knew that war was what it took for Dimitri to learn his lesson. He also knew that it was impossible for Dimitri to win against Eldrick. So, he did not show any reaction as he waited for the drama to end. "Then, I, Cathal Bringe, the messenger of peace from Volar, with the power bestowed upon me by the kingdom of Volar and Lord Eldrick, declare that the kingdom of Volar is at war with the kingdom of Hollis."

His face is a rugged map of past battles, one eye a milky white, the other sharp and flinty gray. I stay close to the edges of the crowd, blending into the shadows cast by the stone pillars. The air is thick with the smell of anxious sweat, worn leather, and the faint metallic tang of blood spilled during earlier practice bouts. My pack members surge around me, a wave of strength and confidence. Torven, a hulking figure with shoulders as broad as I am tall, slams his fist onto the table. "Torven of the Stonefang line!" he bellows. "Warrior trials." Goran grunts, barely glancing up. "Name." He dips a quill into an inkpot that looks like a petrified heart.

:Warrior, you said you had another such vision earlier. Rhychard nodded as he told them about the incident at his parents' house. "That one was real enough to singe my fingertips." He held out his hands for their inspection. Tryna slid off the table, took his fingers in her tiny hands, and inspected them as if she were a doctor. "You really should have had Kree treat these burns when they first occurred. That is part of the reason cosheys bond with Warriors, remember? Their healing powers help keep you alive."

he exclaimed proudly. There was a brief silence after that. His Papa Herman appeared to be deep in thought. He approached him after a minute with an envelope containing a letter. As his father handed it to him, he frowned. "It came from your Uncle Lando," his father stated sternly. His Uncle Lando was his mother's eldest brother. He was one of the captains of the WW Force, the organization of soldiers hunting werewolves. He looked confused at his Mama Geraldine because he couldn't understand why his Uncle had written to him, especially since he wasn't close to him.

He was one. Massive, motionless, and terrifying in his stillness, the warlord looked nothing like the court's whispered portraits. His armor was made of scales—real ones, black and dark crimson, char-bound and ancient. They looked as though they had grown from his skin rather than been forged. Long hair, coal-black and streaked with silver, hung unbound around sharp, beastlike features. His eyes… Her breath caught. They glowed. Not gold, not amber. Firelight, caged behind the thinnest veneer of humanity. When his gaze landed on her, she felt it like the kiss of an open flame.

Little T and Coin were sprawled out in the hallway leading to the office. Bulletholes riddled the walls, the liquor bottles behind the bar all shot to hell. Jake stepped over Nitro’s body, the anger raging in his veins. They’d been good men, all of them. Michelle had been their first lady, a woman that had always smiled and looked after all of them. He was beyond pissed off. He was ready to go to war. He pushed the office door open and clenched his fists. ‘Now we’ll take what is ours.’ It was sprawled on a piece of paper on Bandit’s desk. There were only two MC’s that wanted what the Warriors had. The Reapers and the Dogs. One of them attacked the clubhouse. Or both of them.

“Sorry! I didn’t see you!” But I see him. Golden curls. Big eyes. Freckles just like mine. A tooth is missing in the front. His cheeks flushed from play. Leo. My son. I swallow hard, blinking back the sudden sting in my eyes. Don’t cry. You can't scare him away. “It’s okay,” I murmur, my voice a broken whisper. He grins, looking over my armor and heavy coat. “You’re a warrior? That’s so cool! I’ve never seen a girl warrior before.”

The clash of steel and the snarl of wolves filled the valley, a deafening symphony of war that shook the ground beneath their feet. Aria fought at the front, her blade a streak of silver as she cut through Kieran’s advancing wolves. The air was thick with the scent of blood, sweat, and churned earth. All around her, the warriors of Moonfall and Blackwood collided with Kieran’s forces, their howls reverberating through the cliffs like the echoes of ancient gods.

My vision blurred red. She stood quietly among them, her hair tied back in a messy braid, a loose shirt hanging off one shoulder. My wolf growled, savage and primal. One of my warriors, Bran, flexed his bicep in front of her, smirking like a fool. And then, the bastard winked at her. Red swallowed my vision as blood roared in my ears. The next second, I moved. I crossed the arena in a blur, grabbed Bran by the throat, punched him, and slammed him into the ground so hard the earth cracked beneath him. The girls screamed and scattered.

Adrian swung his gun toward the stairwell. “Strike squad! They’ve found us!” Dozens of shadows surged upward hunters in silver armor, moving too fast and, too precise to be human. Crowe tilted his head slightly, silver light flashing in his eyes. “Not mine. They’re Silver Hounds bio-soldiers bred by Dr. Alaric.” Evelyn sprang up, thumbed the safety, and let three rapid rounds fly. One creature toppled, but instead of red the blood shimmered silver, hissing as it slicked across the concrete.