Cyberpunk Dorio Novels & Stories

Dorian glares at them one last time before falling back to his seat grudgingly. Just then, A new face strolls in, a jagged scar running from his head to the front of his neck. Drogo stirs faintly on the surface, the bloodthirst rolling off the scarred face manages to wake my wolf from his slumber. Dorian notices too, his shoulders tensing.

The Moretti name still stood in stone, but tonight it smelled of blood. I fished the burner from my sleeve. One person I could use without walking into the Vulture’s eyes, Dario. His nickname, the Watcher, was whispered across the city; he kept small lines of power and men of his own, an estate like a watchtower tucked off the coast. He had a weakness I could exploit. I tapped the device. “Dario.” Static, then his low voice: “Emilia.” “Did you know?” I asked, too calm for what I felt. Too cold.

“A few weeks ago, I became an orphan when I lost the only family I had in a fire. I was left with nothing, you know?” “This brat is useless,” the lanky man who looked like a mage mumbled. “Beat him up, Dave. No one could pass this place without paying the toll.” Their leader moved backward as the younger man moved towards him. Dave unsheathed his sword but that move was too late. Dio’s projectile needles pierced their necks before they could take another step forward. Dave scoffed as he pulled the needle. He continued to walk while laughing while Dio stood still as he once again put his hands in his pocket.

Dorian is an alpha, which means he’s the only one who would be able to fight me for my alpha status. I tried to befriend him once, but he wouldn’t say a word. He never bothers anyone, but he isn’t a sociable guy either. Sometimes at night, we could hear him crying out in rage. I remember a few days after he arrived, the doctors forced him to take a shower. I guess he refused because the doctors dosed him with a relaxant and dragged him to the showers. We were made to watch. It was a way to show us what happens to people who turn against the Institute. When they stripped him down, we saw a bevy of scars on his body. It looked like someone tried to carve him up. At some point, he came awake a

"A man came to the restaurant today. I think he has Information about Dario that places him in a very tight spot. For the first time, Dario was scared for his life." "Who is this man?" Caspian asked with a furrowed eyebrow. "Dario said he used to be an ex employee of yours.." I replied. "I have so much ex employees and truthfully, I don't care if they hate on me because of their incompetence. It shouldn't be something Dario is worried about." He said with a shrug. "His name is Morgan Perry." I said and noticed the shock on Caspian's face.

“But here’s the thing, tesoro… if you don’t say yes, everyone in that little lab of yours? They die. One by one. Messily. And you’ll hear every scream echoing through this cell.” I froze. My chest constricted so violently I thought it might collapse inwards. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying to hold back the scream rising in my throat. My feet moved back again, until I hit the cold wall behind me. Dario didn’t stop. He kept moving forward, slow, predatory. And then he crouched. Right in front of me. Face to face. He leaned in, his breath ghosting over my cheek. “Besides,” he whispered, “I’ve been working with some... very powerful men. Government rats in expensive suits. The next name on

the captain demanded, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. Dorian stood calmly, his face once again wearing that perfect clinical mask. “You’re interrupting a critical recovery procedure, Captain. Lower your weapons.” “We heard—” “Our Sword Bearer experienced a rejection reaction to the Aegis Serum,” Dorian cut in coldly, his tone filled with authority. Then he gestured toward the broken glass on the floor. “The parasite mutation in his body made a final attempt to resist before collapsing. He lashed out, and I had no choice but to sedate him heavily to prevent him from harming himself.”

Dorian’s POV The traps were fully set, and the damage was completely done. Within a matter of hours, Alpha Crimson had his hands completely full. He was drowning in a sea of corporate ruin, and his phones were ringing off the hook with furious investors. To make matters worse for him, the leaked video had worked perfectly. He was now facing a massive, looming battle with the fierce Valor pack, whose Alpha was already mobilizing warriors to avenge the ultimate betrayal of his mate bond. Crimson was completely cornered, fighting for his survival on two separate fronts.

To beg for it to stop. But I've done my research. I know what that thing can do. And I'm going to beat it. Behind the glass wall, shadows move. The audience. I can't see their faces clearly, just silhouettes. Watching. Waiting to see me break like all the others. Dorian stands beside the platform, clipboard in hand. He's the owner of this club, the creator of The Gauntlet. Tall, dark hair silvering at the temples, the kind of calm that comes from watching dozens of women fall apart on this machine. He's seen it all. Nothing impresses him anymore.

I didn’t move from the edge of the bed. “Who are you,” I demanded, “and why are you in front of my cell?” “Fair questions,” he said. “I’m Dorian. Beta of this pack. And I’m here to move you.” My shoulders tensed instantly. “Move me where.” “Somewhere without rats,” he said easily. “And before you ask, no, it’s not another dungeon. We’re switching things up.” I laughed in disbelieve. “You expect me to just walk out with you?”