Deltarune Shipping Novels & Stories

Dante offered. What Daniel didn't pay much attention to was the huge ship which is docked just half a mile away from them. The ship has Dante's signature symbol, showing that it belongs to Dante. So Daniel didn't even imagine in his wildest dreams that Dante could repaint Daniel's ship in just 8 hours. That requires huge cranes and hell lot of man power. But Dante pulled it off with ease. "Can i search Montana as well?" Daniel requested. Dante was expecting that. So he didn't look surprised.

A few seconds later, Aurelio walked in, the bruise on his jaw darker now, his expression colder, quieter than before. He had not spoken since their confrontation. Luca did not look at him immediately. “Report.” Luca said, his hands clasped behind his back. Pablo tapped the tablet in his hand and projected the data onto the main display. “Three of our southern shipping routes have shifted ownership structures in the last twelve hours.” Pablo began clearly. “Two of our Marseille-linked suppliers have defaulted on delivery contracts. And the holding company that absorbed majority shares appears to be… insulated. We are still tracing the beneficial owner.”

The werewolf was amazed to see a scenic view; from afar he saw a seashore where different types of boats; ships and even yachts were docked. Delta Gano shifted into his human form, opened the small bag that he brought through his teeth, and got his clothes and some money in it. He could still sniff the scent of Second Princess Trisha in the area. He is confident that she just passed-by in this place and most probably inside of one of the vessels, docked in the seashore that he is gazing at now.

Julian nodded, hoarse: “Then we rebuild in silence. I’ll recover. We strike back—but we’ll need funds. Alone, we’ll bleed in rubble.” A courier entered with an encrypted message—simple coordinates. Gabe unfolded it slowly, eyes narrowing. Their war would continue—but Marchesi had chosen not to join. At Palermo’s port, sympathetic arms moved Dell’s northern vessels into Marchesi-controlled docks—unscheduled, ghost fleets—on the pretense of disaster relief. Matteo and Vincenzo turned them into fodder for cheap labor and wine shipments, resourcefully hiding them beneath Marchesi flags. Again, they observed—never interacted.

I said. Imran walked towards the table slowly, his eyes moving across the room first. He always did that now. Observed before speaking. Measured people carefully. Again, dangerous. He stopped beside me, glancing down at the papers scattered across the table. “What happened?” “Three shipments interrupted,” Dante explained. “Different locations.” Imran frowned slightly. “And you think it's connected?” “It is connected,” Marco said sharply. “We're trying to figure out who the fuck is responsible.”

Alpha Ash starts to talk again to regain my full concentration. “I am looking to make an alliance with a pack. We regularly deliver items to Europe and we are having to use the main roads which often causes delays with police and government checks. Your lands would cut our journey by 60%! This would free my men’s time more to push for extra transportation resulting in an increased volume in sales potentially on my side. With the increased budget forecast, we could hire hands from neighbouring packs to do the deliveries whilst my core warriors worked on reducing the rogue issue.” He passed me a file that summarised what he had just told me. I pass the file onto Thomas to take away.

Stitch added. “Tiny’s contact might have that information,” Rylan said slowly, his expression thoughtful. “If the shipment’s as big as he says, they’d have to plan the route carefully. Avoid main roads, police presence.” “There’s only three routes from the docks that make sense for that kind of load,” Ray continued, gaining confidence. “One goes through industrial zones…too many cameras. One cuts through residential…too much potential for witnesses. The third runs along the old highway near the refineries.”

He opened it and narrowed his eyes and smirked. "What about River Corp approaching every one of you?" Dravyn thundered, his voice rising slowly. "River Corp did approach me with a buyout offer, sir," one supplier admitted. "But we refused. I can only guess this shipping delay is their way of paying us back." The others nodded rapidly. "We are still loyal to Woods Corp, Mr. Woods," another supplier added. "Honestly, just a little political assistance from your side could help us clear those goods through the port much faster," another suggested.

The moment his bare skin brushed mine, the white-hot seal of his Mark beneath my navy collar flared with a deep, steady warmth that instantly settled the lingering tension in my veins. "The Singapore shipping lanes belong to the North pack's maritime division, Elena," Silas rasped, his thumb gently tracing the soft line of my lower lip until the last of the anxious purple vibrations beneath my skin went completely dormant. "They can send all the digital pings they want, but tomorrow morning, we change the routing codes for every cargo vessel in that sector. We don't just block their data; we seize the raw materials they're using to build the next batch of prototypes."

He was quickly gone after that, and the father and son could only look at each other. Mr. Salacosa began driving again while Arthur inspected the envelope in his hand. It was pure white, neat and smooth, with a gold plain seal. Art opened it and carefully took out a golden paper. It was just like the envelope, thin, neat, and smooth. Art felt some bulges at the back of the paper so he flipped it around. Written on it were three golden words that were elegantly calligraphed with a black outline: Welcome to Delta.