Captain Novels & Stories

Silas Marwood, the vile loan shark, was planning something unspeakable. Victor, the captain of the Supreme Vikings Confraternity, stood defiant despite the blood pooling around his fallen men. His red beret, adorned with the gold-plated “Eight Legs of Odin,” tilted slightly as he barked, “I’m the seventh captain of the Supreme Vikings, co-founded by Baron Cassian! Lay a hand on me, and your entire family, your generation, everything you hold dear will be obliterated!” His voice quivered, betraying his fear, though he masked it with indignation. The name Baron Cassian, a titan whose mere mention made men kneel, had always been hi

The adrenaline from the game finally fading and my muscles began to throb. “Hi,” her fingers pushed back my damp hair. “How are you feeling?” I chuckled. “Really sore…” Someone touched my ankle and my eyes clamped shut from the pain. “Oh fuck!!” “I wonder how such a baby became the Captain of the Black Hawks,” I heard Marcus snare and I looked at him. I glanced back at Olive without any reply to his childish effort at rilling me up. He growled. “I'm guessing this plump bitch is your caretaker. Explains a lot really.”

“Means I’m taking the captain spot.” Several people started talking at once. “The position isn’t open.” “We have championships next week.” “Coach would never—” Daniel cut them off easily. “Coach knows exactly what I can do.” Then his eyes flicked toward Ryan again. “And I know the current captain’s a fucking loser.” The room went dead silent. I looked toward Ryan instantly expecting anger. Instead? He looked bored. Which somehow made Daniel seem even more irritated. “You done?” Ryan asked calmly. Daniel laughed shortly. “Scared?”

"You want the other part." "Yes." "I have never moved that fast in my life," he repeated, quieter now, each word deliberate, stripping away every ounce of his usual arrogant captain swagger. "Because there was nothing left in me that could have let them take you. Nothing rational. Nothing careful. Just five years of pretending you were an enemy, breaking apart in about four seconds flat." My throat worked overtime, desperately searching for a witty comeback that wouldn't make me sound like a teenager reading a diary. "You're supposed to be my enemy."

He snapped a wrist shot into the top corner of the net so hard the black puck rattled violently inside the twine. Ethan slammed his stick against the plexiglass in celebration, cheering. Damon coasted backward, turning toward the stands to wipe sweat from his brow with his glove. His dark eyes scanned the perimeter until they locked onto me standing by the tunnel. Even from fifty feet away across a crowded ice rink, I saw his entire demeanor shift. The ruthless, cutthroat captain melted away. A tiny, quiet smile touched his lips—a private, subtle look meant entirely for me. My betraying heart gave a sudden, painful flutter. I couldn't help it. I smiled back.

“Are you planning on staring at me all night, or are you going to hand me a towel?” The mop stick I was holding slipped right off my hand. I had just walked in on the famous hockey team captain, and he was completely naked. I have always hated hockey players, especially the famous ones, and Carter happened to be the most famous player on campus. I never watched his games though to judge how good he was, but he was famous because of his father, Viktor Graham, a hockey legend.

It was still there, simmering under the surface, possessive and controlled and entirely too intense. “Marcus,” Ward called without looking away from me, “leave.” Marcus looked between us, smirking despite his obvious pain. “Well, I’m your best friend, so I don’t see why I have to miss the reunion scene.” “Marcus.” Ward’s tone dropped lower, colder, carrying that command I had only heard in fragments before. Not the hockey captain. Not the man from our past. This was the businessman who could make rooms fall silent with a single word. I exhaled and rubbed my temple. The emotional whiplash of the day was beginning to catch up with me.

Chapter 59 -Who the captain really is Emma tapped her phone and opened her social media. Almost immediately, notifications started popping up everywhere. Right in the middle of them was a video from a morning TV show featuring Allison. Emma pressed play. Allison was sitting in a cream-colored blazer, looking sad as the interviewer asked her about the canceled wedding. “I just never thought my own sister could do something like this,” Allison said. “I tried to protect her, but some people only care about what they can get.”

Sandra: Oh! You're a marine! That's so manly. But isn't it dangerous? Victor: Not really. It’s more paperwork than anything else. We’re on the sea most of the time, avoiding enemy waters, so it’s pretty chill. Sandra: That made you ten times more attractive to me. It’s funny, but I feel like you hold an important position, too. Victor: Yeah. I’m the captain. Sandra: That makes so much sense. You looked like you were the boss of something in your pictures. Are you a good captain, though? Take good care of your men?

Philip countered, holding his ground. Before the argument could escalate any further, the head judge clapped his hands loudly from the front stage to command immediate order. “Attention, designers! The evaluation panel has finalized the scores, and the top rankings are now live on the main display screen.” I already knew my name wouldn't be anywhere near the top three after making such a fatal technical error. But despite the ache in my chest, I turned my head toward the glowing digital board anyway.