Captain Vane Novels & Stories

She gulped as she noticed the captain’s face turning red. “Oh God…” Venus muttered, burying her face in her hands. The captain cleared her throat and finally introduced herself. “I’m Blanche. Blanche Lucille Emerson,” she said, her voice gentle but confident. "Blanche..." Venus utters. "I'm---" "Dianara Venus Hughes, I know." Blanche cut her off and smiled as she took another sip of her drink. "Who wouldn't know the school president?"

he turned his gentle smile on me with an exuberant wave, "hi, I'm Sylvain. Tania is my mate." "Ever the diplomat, Alpha Sylvain," Lilith quipped, shooting him a bright smile. "Nice to see you, too, Lilith," he called over his shoulder but his warm smile never wavered. Victor's gaze grew distant when he spoke, head shaking slowly with scrunched eyebrows, "If she's away and they get to her and I'm not there to protect her. If I can't get to her and something happens..." With every word uttered, his hand tightened around mine, "No. No, she stays."

that controlled every light, every sound, and every door. "Captain Vane, we’re being picked off!" a voice screamed over the comms. "They’re everywhere! We can't see them! We’re—" The comms went dead. Vane, now alone in the darkness of the second floor, felt a cold, sharp dread beginning to settle in his gut. He had underestimated them. Alistair had been right. "Vane," a voice whispered from a nearby speaker, a voice that was low, resonant, and unmistakably Baron Vance’s.

They simply stood there, a wall of iron and silence. The line parted. A man stepped forward. He didn't wear a mask or a suit of armor. He wore a simple, charcoal gray uniform that looked like it belonged in a history book. His hair was silver, cropped close to his head, and his eyes were a flat, watery blue. He looked like an administrator, a man who dealt in ledgers and logistics rather than blood and war. Kael of the First Pack, the man said. His voice was calm, almost bored. I am Director Vane. You have caused a significant delay in our harvest schedule.

We ascended the spiral staircase to the high-tech command bridge, where the console was a chaotic matrix of flashing radar screens and warning indicators. The yacht’s captain was sweating profusely, his hands white on the automated steering controls. "Mr. Vane! They’re matching our speed! They’ve deployed high-speed interceptor ribs. They’re going to cross our bow in less than three minutes!" Julian didn't hesitate. He marched straight to the main helm, shoving the captain out of the way. With a swift, practiced movement, he reached down to the center console and flipped open a locked, transparent glass casing. Beneath it sat a single, un-labeled toggled switch glowing an ominous, solid red.

In the video, Mara clung to Callum's arm as they walked the aisle together, standing before the officiant and exchanging vows as if they were the true couple. Her caption was simple. 'Close enough. I married you after all.' I did not reply to Callum. Instead, I handed the old phone to Evan. "This should be thrown away, too. Will you help me get rid of it?" That phone would be returned to the fake me. As the plane soared upward, Evan reached for my hand and nodded toward the window. Outside, the sun climbed above the clouds, bathing my face in a wash of warm orange light. He smiled at me. "Congratulations, Ms. Wren. You are free now. This is where your new life begins."

"What’s going on, Sarah? I got your text, but Cillian took my phone. Why are you acting like he’s a threat? He's been nursing me for three days." Sarah swallowed hard, her eyes darting to the side mirrors as if checking for a tail. We swerved around a corner, the tires groaning. "First of all, Valerie... who do you think Cillian Vane actually is?" "What do you mean? He’s an investor. He’s the head of Vane Corp. He’s the man who saved my career when Jaxson died."

“No more drills tomorrow.” Silence follows. One captain blinks. “Alpha?” “You heard me.” “But we’re almost ready….” “No.” Tyson’s voice leaves no room for debate. “We’re fighting a battle, not running ourselves into the ground.” His gaze sweeps across the room. “I need warriors who can think. I need witches who can cast. I need commanders who can make decisions. Not corpses who collapse before we reach the battlefield.” That settles it. The following day becomes the quietest day MoonHaven has seen in weeks.

"Bad night?" "Managed." "Your beta told me the episode hit early. Said you had a tribute brought up." She said it the way she said everything. Direct. A hook at the end, waiting for me to bite. I didn't. "I handled it." Monica straightened. She was about to push when movement caught at the far end of the hall. Vane. The gray shift wrinkled from sleep. Hair loose past her shoulders, uncombed. A ring of red around her wrist where my hand had gripped her through the night. She was heading toward the stairs with her head down, one arm pressed flat against her side.