Doomsday Machine Arch Enemy Novels & Stories

They were both shouting my name. We reached a large, circular chamber at the top of the stairs. The room was lined with old, ornate chairs, and in the center was a massive stone table. Above the table, a screen flickered to life, showing a split feed: on one side, Dante standing in front of a massive drilling machine, his face covered in dust and rage. On the other side, Viktor, flanked by his soldiers, holding a rocket launcher. "Gentlemen," the Architect said, his voice amplified through hidden speakers. "Welcome to the Ark. I believe you're both looking for the same thing."

"You'd get a localized seismic event before you got a destroyed machine." "How localized," Marcus said. "This building and everything for a kilometer." Marcus looked at the floor. "Not the explosives," he said. "Not the explosives," Xander confirmed. Sarah had her terminal out and was running the Drive's frequency architecture against everything she'd pulled from the Council's files during the deep-dive. The machine's design was old — pre-war old, the engineering language of people who had built things to last past the worst imaginable circumstances — but the internal structure was mappable if you knew what you were reading.

Absolute. Don Romano stepped back, nodding once. “That’s what concerns me.” He moved toward the door, then paused. “The enemies who breached the mansion weren’t just looking for Isabella.” Mark’s expression sharpened. “I know.” “They were testing you.” Mark said nothing. “They wanted to see who you’d choose.” The Don opened the door, then looked over his shoulder. “You answered them.” With that, he left. The room settled again into quiet. Mark closed his eyes briefly, exhaustion washing over him. But before sleep could claim him, he felt movement.

He started, lowering his gaze on his lap for a few moments, “Usually, only the ones who had fallen from grace have black wings...” “But I...” He paused again for a moment, “Because of who I am, I was also blessed with neutrality...which means that I can freely walk in both Heaven and Hell as well, completely unaffected.” “Why?” I simply asked, suddenly drawing his attention back on me. He sighed, his deep blue orbs twinkling with an emotion I obviously failed to read as he stared deep into my eyes, “I am the Archangel of Death, Blake. This is my job. I have to guide the souls to their final destination, whether is to heavenly peace or eternal torment...” He quietly explained, making me sudde

SERAFINA Our gray Mercedes AMG GLE 6s3 coupe came to a screeching halt in front of the 120 meters tall building, which stood as the headquarters of the Dekoms empire. Reporters immediately clamoured to our car, their camera flashing desperate lights at us, while their mouths moved frantically.

"He won't last more than a few days in that condition. And once your sister's on her own, she won't survive much longer either." I sipped my wine and leaned back comfortably. "You're underestimating her." That sister of mine was full of surprises. On the third day of the apocalypse, Dad somehow brought back some food and a cooling mat. It was barely enough to keep them fed and manage the heat. As the weather grew hotter, I pulled three cooling suits from my closet and handed them out. The mercenaries examined them with interest but asked no questions. I appreciated their discretion. These suits would let us walk outside like normal people, though not for more than three hours. For mercenarie

I snarled. "Don’t touch her like that." "Alpha, we need to—" I've never been scared for anyone but her now. Once they'd managed to cut my embrace, I found myself pacing to and fro. I didn’t know what any of the machines meant. I just knew if that flatline beeped which made it worse. But I swear, if she dies, everyone in this castle does and I'd kill myself again. "Son?" I heard his voice, stopping me half way.

Aya Connor is the only mute Epsilon she-wolf of the Connor Moonfang Pack—fragile, voiceless, and treated as a disposable pawn by her own greedy family. When her father forces her to take her sister’s place in an unwanted mate bond with the terrifying Alpha Kyle Connor, Aya enters the deadly halls of the Rev-9 Crimson Dominion with one goal: keep her dying grandmother, Elder Serena, alive. Kyle Connor is a muscular, ruthless Alpha scarred by war and betrayal. Known for his cold restraint, he wears a pristine ceremonial neck-cloth—loosening the knot by exactly one inch only when his lethal wolf, raw lust, or dangerous possessiveness takes control. Believing Aya is a scheming spy sent to ste

Kira replied, “She went home to see Zaki. They miss each other. I couldn’t keep her here while she ached for her mate. I’m sure you understand.” “I do,” Micha said. “This war is wearing on everyone. Did you hear about the arch-demons?” Kira frowned. “Arch-demons? What are those?” Micha sighed. “They’re Roosevelt’s new creation. Be careful. They can disguise themselves as anyone—or anything. Me. Kate. Zaki. Even Erin.” Kira shuddered and touched her belly. “That’s terrifying. When are these demons coming?” “I don’t know yet,” Micha said. “But you have to be careful. You’re carrying my pup—our pup. Nothing can happen to him. And no harm can come to you.”

“Guardians, please, come with me.” As they stand, Amir grabs my mate’s hand. I’m just about to step in, when she handles the situation, Guardian style. “I warned you not to touch me again, Amir,” she says and I watch her wolf push forward. Amir screams as he is turned to dust. My father’s eyes go wide as he sees his second in command disintegrated in front of him. The entire room goes silent around us. “Yes father. You would be wise to remember that they are called the Guardians of the Realm for a reason.” I snarl at him. “Ladies, please, come with me.”