Dc Mercenary 소설 & 이야기

“I take it that the two of you have grown a lot closer over the months” “For someone who has come to attack my pack, threatening to kidnap MY mate, I am actually very surprised that you had the guts to show up here” Dante said, glaring at the man who frowned. He shrugged his shoulders as Mikhail approached us, standing a step behind his ‘boss’, or in everyone’s eyes, his ‘CEO’. “I have to say, I should have listened to my guts and killed you years ago. I swear, things wouldn’t have reached to this point, and the little prostitute that you call mate would have been dead alongside her father; but nevertheless…”

she mumbled. "Salis is a powerful hybrid necromancer that was banished from the fairy realm because he would steal mates from their intended match. He stole others' mates and also my cousins, having his way with them before abandoning them. He is without honor and will not have your best interests in mind. You are demon marked so I am certain that is what is drawing him to you," Atlas surmised. Frowning, Aira glared at him.

I did not say more than I needed to and I did not wait for those who were slow in returning. Chen was calling as we drove south, the waterfront a dark line on the horizon. "Eastern European mercenaries," she said. “Three confirmed identifications from warehouse footage. Private military history, no permanent employer, available labor.” A pause. “But no link back to whoever had placed them in that warehouse. The hire was clean." Ryker leaned forward from the back seat and placed his phone between the front seats. A picture of a tattoo on the left forearm of one of the deceased mercenaries, a design particular enough to be institutional.

The loud crash shook the floor beneath my boots. Marcus spun around to face the next guy. His gray eyes were glowing bright. He ducked under a rifle barrel and drove his elbow hard into another man’s chest. The man folded over, coughing and gasping for air. Marcus picked him up and tossed him through another glass wall just like the first one. It was a total mess of flying glass, broken bones, and terrified shouts. The highly trained mercenaries were falling apart in seconds. They couldn’t fight back at all. Marcus was just too fast. He was breaking them and throwing bodies like they weighed absolutely nothing. I felt a deep, warm wave of pride in my chest. My mate was fighting for us. But I

“Push them back! We take ground!” We advanced inch by bloody inch, using the the pillars for cover, exchanging controlled fire with the now-disorganized mercenaries. The combined, synchronized aggression of the two families was overwhelming. Micardo, sensing his position crumbling, finally showed himself again. He stepped out from behind the cover of a scorched, bullet-ridden SUV. Rage burned in his eyes, a desperate, cornered animal’s fury. “This changes nothing!” he shouted. “I still own you all! I own the past! I own the rules!”

“That’s why I’m still alive.” I walk closer, sizing him up. Broad shoulders, faded tattoos across his arms. His clothes smell of old blood and gunpowder. A mercenary. One of the infamous ones whispered about in packs. Hunters who kill anything supernatural for the right price. “You’re late,” I say, my voice sharp. “And you’re desperate,” he replies, leaning back. “Desperate men pay better.” My claws twitch at my sides, but I force them to retract. I can’t kill him. Not yet. “Do you even know who I am?”

Aurora. I tightened my grip on Gunner’s side, digging my fingernails into his flesh. Gunner stared at Doyle, and Doyle stared back at Gunner. I looked around us, we were still surrounded. At a quick glance, I counted nine, ten including the Alpha. Should be easy to take them. I've taken down more than this on my own before. But Gunner doesn’t seem like the type to get scared at just anyone. He called these ones mercenaries. I've never heard of Werewolf mercenaries. I wonder if the hunters knew about them. Probably not, or else they would have extinguished them by now. Human mercenaries earn their reputation, similar to that of a hunter clan. I can only assume that wolf mercenaries work the s

And Robert Wolfe had never been weak. The knock at his study door came hesitant, almost apologetic. One of his men entered, phone in hand, bowing his head low as if approaching an altar. “Sir,” the man said carefully. “It’s Mercer.” Robert’s sharp eyes flicked to the phone. Daniel Mercer. A name few in his household even knew. A shadow asset. A relic of older, dirtier days. Useful precisely because he was invisible. Robert gestured with two fingers. The phone was placed into his hand like an offering.