Core Hunter Novels & Stories

No matter what the company’s history of getting to the peak in a certain field in just four years, the people were still skeptical of the current scenario. Already, the recent revelations about Hunter had sent shockwaves through the entire company, leaving its employees utterly aghast. The disturbing truth about Hunter's cunning and ruthless tactics, particularly exposed during the protestor fiasco, had shattered their faith in the man they once considered their leader. The undeniable evidence, captured on video, showcased Hunter's willingness to go to any extent to destroy his rivals, painting a picture of a cunning and manipulative figure.

“Did you come all this way to question me or do you have something to tell me?” His constant bickering and the voices in my head were giving me a fucking headache. Ryan wasn’t one to be intimidated by my actions, in this kingdom and possibly around, he was the only person who could stand and smile unaffected while I blew hot on people. He and Cory. Well, Cory has no idea yet. But that was a factor I wasn’t sure I wanted to be explored. Ryan looked at me with a soft smile on his face. He was a dog with a fucking bone, chewing and chasing. “Nothing, Hunter has been killed and now, black cage pack, they want to claim his land,”

But I was still overwhelmed by the presence that was Rig Landon. The Hunter. He was notorious on campus. I’d been warned about him during rush week of freshman year, when my dormmates very quickly gathered that I lacked experience with guys… or anything even vaguely resembling a normal life, for that matter. “He’ll sniff you out like a good wine,” they said, laughing and nudging each other. “Like, seriously, watch your back. The guy is like a drug. If he comes for you, you’re toast.” “And so’s your virginity.”

Arrows sang through the smoke like whispers meant to kill. Jet made a break for it but before he could escape something faster struch him. Thwack!—an arrow nailed him to a wooden beam. He screamed once before another arrow found his throat. The room vanished into smoke. White tendrils coiled around broken pillars. Shadows flickered fast, quiet, merciless. Three figures stepped into the storm like ghosts walking through fire. The first tall, coat snapping at his heels, steel in his eyes didn’t slow. Calvin Hunt. The man whose name made wolves flinch. Custom shotgun in hand, still smoking.

I questioned while cocking my eyebrow up. "No, it's what he does." she stated. Reina's Point of View "It's what he does," I stated with no tone. He looked taken back and confused as if he could have never expected it. "What?" he stammered. I pushed him off of me and sat on the bed avoiding eye contact with him. "The Black Hunter kills the bad people. Yet the cops make him seem like the bad person. He kills rapists, abusers, sexual offenders etc." "How do you know that?"

I whispered as fidgeted with my fingers "Well don't look so glum I'm here to give you a second chance if your willing to take it, it's your choice" "What do you mean" "I mean you have a choice if you wanna become a hunter, here we are at the hunter institute where we recruit and train people to become hunters to defend threats to the supernatural and human community " I just stared at him as he continued "There are also hunters that are part of an elite group called assassin hunters, they are few but they are the strongest and most powerful of all the hunters , chris here is part of that group", he glanced at chris then back to me "he's a vampire with special abilities one of them being he c

I sucked in a breath and nodded. He was right. The outline was nothing compared to the shading as he colored in the design… which I still had yet to see. I flinched at the pain. The feeling was more annoying than actual pain. It was like a constant stinging or burning that never seemed to end as it dragged across my skin over and over again. It felt like talons were digging into sun burnt flesh, already scorched and in need of reprieve. Now and then, he wiped away the ink and blood but always returned with his head lowered in stoic form. His face was a wall of complete concentration, hand perfectly steady. Maybe that’s why he was such a great hunter. Firm. Stable.

Nevertheless, he asked politely, “May I know what it is about the Hunter Organization that you wish to tell me?” “Well, not much. I just want you to know that we didn’t abandon Zandor. We are gathering our strength to take it back in one fell swoop.” “We?” Mane asked. “Yes. Let me reintroduce myself. I am God King Brahman. I am the real Head of the Hunter Organization.”

He is standing with his back turned against me, his eyes trained on the other person. I focus on him instead. He looks stunned, his eyes widened, and his lips parted. “That is impossible,” he mutters, shaking his head. “That veil hasn’t been breached in years. Who could have…” “Only one breed,” he drawls. “Hunters.” “Shit!” I didn’t think they were going to figure it out so fast. My breath hitches in my throat when he angles his head a fraction, when everything suddenly stops, as if he can sense me.

The rain kept coming down all afternoon, pounding hard against the diner windows. By six o'clock, the small room was empty. The only sound was the low hum of the old television hanging over the counter. My boss was in the back breaking down supply boxes, so I was alone in the kitchen, wiping off the metal counters with a wet rag. I kept my head down, trying not to think about the men from earlier. Four hundred thousand credits. Hunters. Syndicates. Every loud sound from the street made my chest tighten up.