Captain Vane Novels & Stories

Panni replied, her golden gaze shifting to the sky. Above them, the Vane fleet descended. Massive iron-clad dirigibles, held aloft by heated gas and humming with internal brass rotors, blocked out the moon. The lead ship, the Aurelius, lowered its docking claws. A platform descended, carrying Alistair Vane. He was bleeding from the clockshop explosion, his silk suit ruined, but his eyes were filled with a terrifying, religious fervor.

I lunged, my speed blurring the air as I closed the distance, but they threw a concussive grenade that sent me sprawling. That was when Vane emerged from the shadows. He had followed us off the ship, his frustration with my leadership boiling over, and he had been watching from the rafters. He saw the Vanguard moving to flank me, and without a word, he dropped from the ceiling, a hurricane of claws and rage. He shifted in mid-air. "Vane, no!" I screamed. He was too exposed. One was already raising a rifle to Vane's head at point-blank range. Vane didn't see him; he was buried in the carnage of the first wave.

When I reached the door, I took a deep breath and knocked three times. “Come in,” a familiar voice called from inside. I opened the door and stepped in. Sitting across from Principal Hargrove was a ridiculously hot guy with dark, slightly tousled hair and striking dark green eyes. I recognized him instantly. Sebastian Hale. Westfield’s captain. The one who had dismantled Hawthorne’s offense on Friday night and smiled at me afterward like he actually saw me.

Hundreds of high society elites, hedge fund managers, and real estate magnates occupied the velvet lined rows, their eyes fixed on the massive digital projection screen displaying the asset profile of Vane Plaza, the iconic eighty story skyscraper that had served as the crown jewel of Vivienne's grandfather's maritime empire. Keep your head up, Cynthia, Julian Vance hissed, his voice raw with a desperate, defensive aggression as they walked down the central aisle. His right hand, thick with layers of stark white surgical plaster, was pinned rigidly across his chest inside a custom silk sling. Sweat beaded along his hairline despite the ballroom's aggressive air conditioning. Stop looking at

I stepped onto the command dais and looked at the faces of the warriors. "For eight years, Goma Island has been a ghost on our maps," I began, my voice amplified by the hangar's acoustics. "A place where the laws of physics were rewritten to keep us out. Atticus thought that by sealing the gates with a composite alloy and an energy field, he could bury the truth of what he did to our parents." I leaned forward, my hands gripping the edge of the console. "He was wrong. He spent eight years hiding behind a wall. We spent eight years building an army. He thinks he’s safe because he’s on an island that no plane or boat can reach. But tonight, the gates are open. And the Vanguard is coming to col

That sounded stern enough He scoffs and swiped his tongue through his lower lip, revealing his tongue ring. I almost got tempted to fall for the sexiness he emits by doing that. I chuckles "That attitude will get you nowhere except being kicked out of the team" I turns back to face everyone, “As for the rest of you, get on the field and show me what you got. Formation and everything. Who's the captain?" I'm not surprised when a couple of hands point to Sebastian, just like I thought.

A massive figure stepped onto the surface, his black jersey stretched tight across a chest. Fenrir Vane. The veteran captain of the Wolves was an Alpha who had spent ten years dominating the league through fear and raw physical force. He knew every trick in the book. He specialized in targeting injured or vulnerable players. His dark eyes scanned our line, skipping past Orion before locking onto my green eyes. Fenrir smiled, a predatory expression that showed his teeth under his cage. He did not skate toward his spot at center. He glided toward the left wing, lining his skates up directly across from mine.

The Captain’s face was a mask of stoic, regal duty, though she kept her distance from the bleeding creature on the floor. The Vanguard warriors rushed forward, wrapping heavy iron bands around the beast’s shattered chest and broken arms. "Is it dying?" Zuri asked the hunt leader, a tall woman with a deep scar across her cheek. "The Anvil broke its core, Captain," the hunt leader replied, glancing at Mwajuma with a mixture of terror and absolute respect. "It is bleeding out. It won't last the hour." Zuri’s golden eyes flickered. She looked at the dying creature, and for a fraction of a second, Mwajuma thought she saw a flash of intense, panicked frustration cross the Captain’s face.

Ethan Kane transferred to Hazard High Elite hockey team. He came to fight for the captaincy he has admired all this years. But then he meets his old best friend and secret crush, Jax Rivera wearing the C badge referring to the captain of the team on his jersey. Their reunion ignites buried tension and old feelings. After losing a match that would have earned him a chance of being the captain, he finds himself pinned against the tiled walls in the locker room by Jax. Instead of shoving him off, Ethan finds himself surrendering completely to Jax and allowing him to take his dream completely. Jax then offers a deal that Ethan gives him total submission while he on the other hand keeps it a

Twenty pairs of eyes tracked us as we peeled onto the outer lane, our matching navy kits declaring our presence before Director Vance could even take the microphone on the central observation deck. "Form up on the secondary baseline, Harlow," a voice barked from the head of the pack. The speaker was Garrison Vance”no relation to the director, but the undisputed primary anchor of the Capital Syndicate. He was a five-year veteran, his frame a dense, weathered mass of muscle and scar tissue, his own navy kit faded from hundreds of hours under the high-intensity lamps. He didn't slow down as he passed us, his shoulder brushing intentionally close to mine, a blunt assertion of territorial right.