Death Wolf Saga Novels & Stories

Several raised weapons, while a handful transformed into wolves, their intent clear. My wolf reached them first, unwavering. It lunged at a thug armed with a dagger, fearless and furious. The man swung his blade toward my wolf's eye, but my wolf didn't flinch. It widened its jaws, zeroing in on the thug's arm. With a graceful tilt of its head, it dodged the blade and bite on the man's arm. With a powerful shake, my wolf not only tore off the entire arm but also half of the thug's torso. Blood erupted, painting the beach in a macabre tableau, marking the onset of a brutal battle.

I couldn’t stay there and continue to face the disgrace of that day. My wolf is still weak. From time to time, he would groan within me, maybe to tell me he was still there or a sign of mourning. With every movement on the ground, my body still burned with pain. Whenever my body brushed against a tree or hit a rock, the pain would multiply. However, my will prompted me to continue to move on. If this will be my end, so be it. it was better than staying in the clan where no one cared anymore.

Lethal. A shadow streaking through fire and ash— I, Xavier Da La Vega, the Black Wolf, born from pain and purpose. I howled—not a challenge. A plea. The golden wolf’s gaze fixed on the woman huddled protectively over her child. "NO...please no...," The woman cried and begged.

The night filled with snarls and the sound of claws raking against pavement. The lead rogue, a large black wolf with blood-red eyes, charged at one of Derek’s warriors. His claws swiped at the warrior’s side, but the gray wolf dodged, spinning on his hind legs and slashing at the rogue’s flank. Blood splattered across the ground, but the rogue barely flinched, retaliating with a powerful bite aimed at the warrior’s throat. The gray wolf jumped back just in time, countering with a vicious attack that tore into the rogue’s shoulder.

“Now.” But it was too late. A growl came from the trees. Then another. Then ten more. Eyes glowed in the dark. Dozens of them. Rogue wolves. Huge. Scarred. Foaming at the mouth. Lycan stepped forward. “This is your only chance. Leave. Or die.” The rogues didn’t speak. They charged. **Rosa’s POV** The fight was chaotic. Snarls. Blood. Claws. I sliced one rogue’s throat, then ducked as another leapt over me.

“You could end it, you know. Pick a winner. Let them live.” I snort. If only it were that easy. “Find me one who can last past the third sunrise, and maybe I’ll consider it.” Her presence flickers in front of me, like a whisp of smoke. “You’ve gone soft. I can smell it on you.” “Must be your imagination. The only thing soft here is the ground after the corpses hit it.” She chuckles and fades, leaving the back of my skull blessedly empty. I straighten, scanning the new arrivals. A witch crying into her hands. Two wolves are already posturing for dominance. A human, brave or stupid, probably both, trying to look like she belongs. Typical.

Sage does likewise by my side, his hackles up and quivering with anticipation. Suddenly, I feel it—the faintest whiff of Cleo's honeysuckle scent. It's around here, close by. I exchange a glance with Sage, and we creep in that direction, every sense on high. A rustling in the trees to either side of us has us turning around seconds too late to notice two enormous wolves spring out at us. Sage leaps between me and the wolves, jaws wide. Before the assault can even begin, he leaps out at them on the offensive, his teeth biting deep into one of the River wolves' legs.

“For everything. For taking over. For not telling you about the miscarriage. For all of it.” “I’m sorry too. For shutting you out. For giving up.” He kissed her head. “We’ll do better. Be better. For this baby.” They sat there holding each other. First real moment of peace in months. Then Cole burst in without knocking. “We have a problem,” he said. “Huge problem.” “What now?” Sage asked. “Detective Chen just called. There’s been an incident. A human extremist group attacked wolves in Portland. Killed fifteen. Including children.” Cole looked sick. “It’s going to start a war. Wolves are already talking retaliation.”

“The White Wolf. A rare genetic throwback not seen in centuries. Not an albino. A true white, with eyes of winter sky or summer storm. Said to be born under a confluence of celestial events. Their blood is rumored to hold properties… healing, perhaps, or something more volatile. Their energy signature is distinct, a quiet hum beneath the skin, detectable only by the oldest or most sensitive wolves.” He looked up at me. “The legends say they were considered sacred. And then, they were hunted to near extinction. Because if their blood could heal… it could also be weaponized.” The words landed like stones in my stomach. A quiet hum. Is that what Saga felt? The static before the storm? “How do y

Timing ready. We’re supposed to wait for my signal. My wolf doesn’t wait. He launches forward. A howl shatters the quiet. Shock. Panic. The rogues scramble, bodies twisting into wolf form in desperate confusion. Too late. The battle begins. I slam into the first wolf like a falling boulder. Bones crack between my teeth. Hot blood floods my mouth. Metallic. Warm. Alive. But my wolf isn’t satisfied. He doesn’t pause. He doesn’t assess.