Clone Wars Captain Novels & Stories

My eyes locked immediately on the guy front and center. Brad Walker. Captain. Arms crossed, cocky smirk, messy dark hair, and those same piercing eyes that used to make the old me weak. “Anyway,” Kayla continued, oblivious, “we’ve got a game against Westfield tomorrow. You should come. It’s the perfect way to get thrown into the chaos.” “Maybe,” I said noncommittally. She stopped at a junction in the hallway. “My class is this way. Yours is straight down there, end of the hall. Sorry we’re not in the same one.”

I let out a bitter laugh, grabbing my skates by the laces and slinging them over my shoulder. “Right. Because God forbid anyone remembers you exist unless you’re wearing a captain's armband.” “Don't turn your back on me!” Yasmine screamed as I moved toward the door. “If you go through with this, I will tell Mom and Dad! I mean it, Trixie! Do not embarrass me!” “Too late,” I muttered, slamming the apartment door behind me. My chest was heaving, I didn't care about the rules, I didn't care about Yasmine's warning, and I definitely didn't care that the varsity boys were currently using the ice.

Ash shuts his eyes and barks, “wake me when they call number 13” Corrin scoffs. Celeste's gaze is focused, but unlike Sophia's they lack that spark of admiration. Her eyes are bright with logic and moving slowly over the old alphas—counting? No one answers Sophia though. The answer was obvious. I spot the captain of the scouts almost instantly, the one I have to impress if I ever want a shot at leaving this place; Deyna Draemor. At thirty-five she is the fastest wolf in the army and the youngest to lead a quadrant.

I asked, my voice neutral. The man bowed his head slightly. "My name is Alex, Alpha," he said, his voice deep. "I'm a native of another pack, but I heard of the riches and strength of the Golden Claw pack, so I decided to reside here. I'm an orphan, and I have no one." I studied him, trying to read between the lines. There was something about him that didn't sit right with me, but I couldn't quite put my finger on it. Leah's eyes met mine, and I saw the silent plea there. I decided to agree to let him help me, if only for Leah's sake.

JIA POV "Alright, that concludes the fights for day one. Let me remind you of our winners. Capt. Bolis of Vaal, Lt. Oslo of Glortinon, Lt. Kaipo of Cok, Commander Saz of Cok, Lt. Net of Hassin, Commander Burk of Hassin, Commander Garlof of Cok, Capt. Terrax of Glortinon, Capt. Cull of Shikaz, Lt. Zarn of Makskin, and Lt. Modok of Gaimo," the announcer says and the crowd interrupts him with a loud roar of cheers.

Clara turned too her smile faltering a little. "Volkov," Evan said. His voice stayed steady but I caught the edge in it. "Did not expect to see you here alone." I shrugged and took a sip of my drink. "Decided to show up. See what all the fuss is about. Looks like you two are having a great time." Clara nodded politely. "It is a nice event. Are you enjoying yourself Kade?" "Enjoying?" I echoed. My eyes stayed locked on Evan. "Hard to enjoy when the captain is out here playing house instead of handling business."

They saw exactly what I wanted them to see—wealth, beauty, privilege, innocence. "Lady Evangeline!" A young warrior approached with the kind of swaggering confidence that suggested he had consumed far too much of that expensive French champagne. "Marcus mentioned you are from the Northcrest territory. I have heard your pack produces the finest trackers in the entire continent. Is that true?"

One in particular caught my eye. Dante Kade. Captain. Number 17. Ice-blue eyes. A name that came with a hundred headlines and at least five fangirl forums I pretended not to browse. He looked lethal. The kind of lethal that made smart girls run and stupid girls fall. I wasn’t here to do either. I tore my eyes away from the poster and squared my shoulders. The heel of my boot clicked against the tile with more attitude than I felt. I could fake it. I’d faked worse.

“This is insane. I just… pushed him a little. It wasn’t that deep.” “You put a knife in his side,” I snapped. “You made him bleed until he passed out. He almost died.” Bren scoffed. “Why would you care? He isn’t even from here.” Before I could answer, the throne room doors slammed open. A tall man marched in—broad-shouldered, armored, the scar across his jaw easy to recognize. Captain Rolkan. He was one of the strongest fighters in the pack. One of my Father’s trusted commanders.

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."