Captain Vane Novels & Stories

Her heart pounded thoughts colliding in her mind. “What does he want this time?” she thought as she approached the table. “Attention everyone,” Kael said, clinking his wine glass. “This is Lyra Vane,” he said, pointing towards Aria. “I know most of you might have met or heard of her. She rode with me during the war, and she saved my life,” he added. Murmurs erupted around the hall. “Silence!” Lucan growled. “I have decided to reward her, and so…”

She nudges George, “Problem with my van?” He looks down at her, then back at the van, then back at her. He shakes his head, “Nope, just not what I expected.” He looks back at the van, tilting his head thoughtfully, “It still run?” “Of course, I’ve kept it clean and running. Wasn’t going to let it just sit and rust.” Celine turns to see her cousin, Phillipe, who has joined them. He holds out a hand to George, who shakes it, “Phillipe, her second oldest cousin, I painted the van with my brother for her eighteenth. She didn’t get much use out of it before leaving us for England, but I would never have let it go to waste.” She grins,

Fourteen of Vane's wolves neutralized, the rest fled north. "Vane commanded from outside the engagement zone," Evander said. He had a cut along his jaw that he was not acknowledging. "He watched. He assessed." His grey eyes were flat with a cold that Betty was learning to recognize as his version of fury. "He sent forty wolves at a target he had intelligence on. He lost half of them in eleven minutes." He looked at Betty. "That was not what he expected."

His hair was slicked back, white as snow, and his thin face was framed by sharp gold wire glasses. General Vane. The last surviving member of the Council’s high command. "Calista Rivers" Vane said, his voice amplified by the speaker towers mounted on the courtyard walls. It sounded clear, dry, and entirely lacking in human warmth. "The disgraced surgeon from the northern clinic. You have caused a considerable amount of structural damage to our city grid." "Turn off the shield, Vane" I called back. My voice was raspy, but it didn't shake. I stepped sideways, putting my good right shoulder in front of Kael just enough to keep him from springing forward into open gun lines.

Oh, my dear Zoey…" he drawled as he moved away from her. "Zoey," he said softly, his voice dripping with calmness. "I don't believe in remission, there is nothing like forgiveness. I am Lynx Vance, I believe in revenge, I believe in vengeance. Vanessa and Alexander will pay for their betrayal with their lives, and that useless thing in Vanessa's belly will face his doom soon," Lynx said firmly.

The red glare of the flare hung in the salt-heavy air like a bleeding star, casting a jagged, rhythmic light over the deck of the mangled gunboat as it pitched violently in the black harbor swells, Verina felt the world tilt, not from the waves, but from the impossible sight of the man standing over a pinned and gasping Miller. Silas’s father, Elias Vane, the original "Executioner" who had supposedly been buried in a watery grave ten years ago, looked like a specter forged from obsidian and sea-spray, his face was a map of deep, jagged scars and a decade of cold, subterranean exile, but his eyes were the same dark, predatory wells as his son’s. The heavy breathing of the two Vane men filled

Thorne. Captain of the team that now owned my contract. The man whose championship trophy I'd stolen with a last-second, impossible goal three months ago. He looked even bigger up close, a mountain of muscle and simmering rage barely contained in a Vipers t-shirt and track pants. His ice-blue eyes locked onto mine, and the air grew thick, heavy with the promise of violence. "Valdez," he said, his voice a low growl that vibrated through the floor. "Welcome to hell."

Elara gasped, her vision finally clearing. Vane didn't look like the man she’d seen in the facility. He looked colder. More permanent. He held a suppressed submachine gun with a casual, terrifying ease. "Hello, Abram. Hello, Elara," Vane said, his voice smooth and devoid of any human warmth. "Did you really think the 'Ghost' was the only one watching you? John was an amateur. A distraction." "You’re Internal Affairs," Abram rasped, struggling to stand. "You’ve been playing both sides this whole time."

The tall one had blonde hair, brown eyes, a bag over his shoulders and daring look while the other had blue hair with blue eyes, his face was cute, like a fallen angel. “That’s Emory and Marsh, Emory is the captain of the hockey team” Xyla whispered in my eyes, it felt like talking about them openly would inquire consequences. I looked over at them, their seat were aligned. Emory sat behind Marsh. A part of the hockey team, I thought about it, seeing them made me excited, I couldn’t wait to apply for the hockey team. “Marsh is the right defenseman” Adele added. I nodded, then she leaned closer.