Christopher Argent Novels & Stories

“Are you serious? You ratted me out, Chris! You told them about my ability! You do realize that it’s not only me you betrayed, right? What about Cole, what about the pack? What about Heidi…” Chris’ eyes narrow on me at the mention of his mate’s name. “Why do you think I did it?” he snaps. “They promised me that Heidi and our pup would be safe if I went along with them. We weren’t going to beat them, Astrid. I had to make sure they were safe…” “You’re pathetic,” I hiss, turning away. I can’t even look at him. I let my throbbing head fall back against the wall behind me, drawing deep breaths in and out. Trying to process the bomb he just dropped.

Ahhhhhh! The Argents owned a big estate in the suburbs of California. They were very influential and the Argent generation dated back to centuries ago when a werewolf had been discovered in France. They'd been a family of meat hunters before the discovery of the Lycan race. Taking it up to himself, Argent Caro, a Franco-Latin man created a team of hunters to kill Werewolves and Vampires, also. Very soon, the Argent name was spreading throughout the country like wildfire. The government was ready to help them after they'd bravely killed Imogen, the most powerful woman werewolf to walk the earth at the time.

This reeked of collaboration—someone smart enough to stay quiet while others bled. “Find out who’s whispering,” I said. “If it’s internal, I want them hanging by dawn. If it’s external, we’ll stage another border show.” Killian didn’t flinch. “Public or private?” “Public. They want a reaction, I’ll give them one. But it’ll be mine.” He nodded again and passed the final file. “The company.” I stilled. “Which one.” “Argent Industries.” Of course. Of the dozen businesses under my name, Argent was the most volatile. Private security, weapons contracts, biochemical research—all barely legal, all highly profitable. And all run by men who thought power behind a desk meant something.

"That's fucking bullshit. We're supposed to get married. We're having a child. If you want me to accept you, you have to give me everything." Travis winced at the sound of her sob. He wanted to cross the small gap, to pull her into his arms and tell her it was a nightmare, but he felt like he was made of glass, if he moved too fast, he’d shatter her. He hung his head, bracing himself. Finally, he spoke. "My name... my life... I am part of an organization that exists in the shadows. The Argentum Order. I founded it nine years ago."

But she still had the courage to talk, "What do you want from me?" "I only want for you, what you want too- what you crave for, what you are dying to have...I want you to unleash the power within. I want you to be free of every restraints..." his voice slowly getting an octave down and huskier! And oh! so very freaky, "...I want you to feel all the power that reside within you. For your name is Argamas!!! The first descendant of Anak! The first seed of the Nephilim!!!" he roared. Lightening stroke across the dark grey skies that stood in sight from the circular window at the sound of his voice.

“I’m more grateful that you’re alive, Christopher. You don’t know how much life span this has added to my existence.” Christopher smiles. “On a positive note, you became the world’s hero—the one who exposed Project Empire.” “Well, I couldn’t have done it without Cross. You remember Cross and Chelsea?” “I do.” “You may not know this, but Chelsea was the Yesli Toorsman whose story went live years ago. And Cross was Zeath’s missing brother, Zachili.” Christopher huffs. “Wow.” Then his tone changes as he slowly nods. “It’s sad they’re both gone.”

“If I held on, after all the loss that I went through, and if I stayed strong to raise you as a grandson without throwing you out like others would do to bastards; it is because I never saw you as any less than my grandson. When it comes to her, I never did bother looking at her, and I never asked to see her. If she sees me as a stranger and if she treats me as one, then she is not to be blamed. But you, you are to be blamed, not once, but a thousand times if you see yourself as one because you know, very well, that you were never treated as a stranger or as any different. If anything, you got the Sforza last name, the blood of a noble, and the lead of a creed.” “I am not going to work with

I was just about to fold myself into the vehicle when I halted, glaring Victor dead in the eyes as I questioned, "How can I be certain that you don't plan to do anything to me?" Victor huffed and pinched the bridge of his nose as his features twisted in a pensive mask. After a minute or two, he began signing, "Message your friend. Tell her you're with me. My name is Victor Silva. If she doesn't hear from you in the morning then she should file a charge against me." Silva. Hispanic decent. His tanned skin suddenly made a lot of sense. I fished out my phone from the pocket of my trench coat and opened a chat with Erica.

But the man on the screen didn’t even flinch, as if he were deaf too. “I think we both know your Arganza supplies were sabotaged and your labs need this raw material,” the interpreter said into the mic. “Was that what Mr. Brona said?” Dante asked me, and I nodded. Those were his exact words. I looked at Lorenzo. His face looked like he wanted to kill someone. The executives sitting beside him had dark, furious expressions too. He glanced at a man in a white medical lab coat and gave a heavy nod. They needed the Arganza, and the man on the other side of the screen was taking advantage of it.

“I-I assure you, they’re not lies! I-I know this must be upsetting to hear, but I speak the truth!” I glared at him. “Besides, he’s not your husband yet. And I can guarantee you’ll be glad he isn’t once you believe me,” Christopher continued, his voice low. I curled my lip, anger still hot in my chest. One more vile word out of his mouth and I would make sure he’d never rise above being a pathetic, unrecognised Rogue. Christopher looked to the warriors holding him, acknowledging them for the first time. “Fellas, why don’t you let me go for a moment? I’d like to show the lady something, it’s just in my front pocket-”