Captain Wolfoo Novels & Stories

First day on the job and I’m hauling my camera bag through the arena tunnels, heart hammering because this was supposed to be my break through. I had studied this team like the palm of my hand. I spotted him right away. Riven Holt. Captain. Star forward. The guy everyone talked about like he was some kind of hockey god. Tall, built like he could break someone in half without trying, dark hair messy from practice, jaw set like he was permanently pissed off. He was barking orders at some rookies near the bench, voice sharp enough to cut glass. “New girl,” he called out when he noticed me standing there fiddling with my lens. “You the photographer? Let’s see what you got from warm-ups.”

Oliver stood under the hot, white spotlight. The bright light burned his eyes. He stared at the tall man holding his hand. The truth hit him like a heavy, cold rock. Alexander Whitman. The famous hockey captain. The man who fucked him so hard in the hotel pool. He was actually a Montgomery. He was the son of the enemy. Oliver pulled his hand back. He pulled very hard. Alexander’s fingers were strong, but Oliver ripped his hand away. The skin on Oliver’s wrist burned red from the tight grip.

Everyone had retired for the night and the silence inside the grand halls was comforting except in the library. Two shadows stood near a dimly lit fireplace, engaged in a whispered conversation. The flicker of the flames reflected in the sharp eyes of Belle’s father, Mikhail Gray, his expression cold and unreadable. Across from him stood Daston Hallow, an old family friend, but tonight, he wasn’t just visiting for pleasantries. His lips twisted into a thin smile as he passed Mikhail a sealed envelope. "Is everything ready?" Mikhail asked, his voice low and measured. "Yes." Daston replied, his eyes narrowing. "The accounts have been moved as you requested. No one will trace it back to us, not

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."

He wasn't yelling or trying to sound like a tragic hero—he just stated it like a cold fact. "He told me if I wasn't the best guy on the ice, I was wasting his time and his money," Carter added, his knuckles turning a little pale around the wooden stick. "So... I get it. Having stuff in your past you don't feel like sharing with anybody." I stared at the side of his profile. The arrogant, untouchable hockey captain vibe he wore around campus completely melted away, leaving just a guy who had been pushed way too hard for way too long.

She looked down at me as I lay on the floor, smoothing down her outfit. "Let that serve as a little reminder for you, Gwen," she threatened, her voice dripping with venom. "If you ever think about messing with me—Fanny Whitlock, the captain of the Phoenix cheer team, and the girlfriend to the hottest captain of the Nightclaws ice hockey team—I will make your life a living hell for the rest of the years you are stuck at this college. Remember your place." I slowly pushed myself up from the hardwood floor, my muscles aching. As I stood up, a single tear of frustration and pain slipped down my cheek.

the captain mutters, sadness creasing his features. But I must. It instills a fear and sense of urgency into me. To understand what world I am birthing this child into and just how broken it is. In Wolvendom, the Void is only a starting threat, not this fast growing menace. Shaking my head, I jut my chin forward. “Take me to Rune.” Several minutes later, I am sweaty, out of breath, wheezing, itching to get out of my tight leather pants, and the captain halts before a group of armed guards who seem to be inspecting. . .bodies.

Just as he was about to lash out, two people walked in. Shaun had no idea who they were, but Ren, who was a master-level powerhouse, was baffled. He went over in a hurry. “Captain Wolke! What brings you here?” Campian smiled. “I’m here to investigate your company’s forest fires.” Ren was shocked. Why would a minor incident like this warrant a personal visit from a captain of Admiralporium? He introduced the man hastily. “Mr. Cash, this is the eighth division captain of Admiralporium’s Squad 13 in Northspring, Campian Wolke.”

"May I just remind you that Dr. Rosella Hawl is already taken. Wouldn't want a World War III with the Richforte's right?" "Hey, it's not what you think—" He stops me by putting his other hand up. Then he suddenly smiles— that smile that I usually saw to— gays! He slid his hand to Captain Welton's chest as if seducing him and I can't hide my laugh when I hear his voice and see the look on his eyes, making Captain Welton step back. "W-what the hell are you doing—" "Captain," I cover my mouth with my hand to suppress my laugh. "You know, if you want, I can give you a service. You don't have to steal Dr. Hawl, I'm just here, daddy."

the captain barked. I glared up at him, then turned to face the hulking beta warrior with arms the size of my thighs. When he tried to spar with me, I couldn't help it; I screamed and fell on the ground. The entire yard erupted in laughter, but he just stopped and stared at me like I'd grown a second head. "You're supposed to dodge, Luna." "Yeah, about that... dodging isn't really my strong suit. Can I just... surrender?" "We werewolves do not surrender, Luna Elowyn. Go on and take a break till you recover. What's going on with you?" the captain said, shaking his head.