Famous War Books Novels & Stories

“You know! The new city major! Lot of stress! Political pressure! The last unsolved streak of homicides changed the seat of power. Wonder what this would do?” “Civil War!” Kane laughed, “What’s it all about?” “These fucking rebels set fire to their old master’s houses. Selected though! It’s weird. The one who abuse them are not targeted, well maybe sometimes, but none of their homes have been set on fire.” “No pattern you say! Why attack at random?” Robert looked at his feet and frowned for a second before speaking. “It’s not all that random. The Parsons traced ancestry to a certain Warwick Ambrosius, great-great grandson of the famous Wendelin Ambrosius.”

Asked the priestess. Alea looked up in horror. "No, definitly not! Roman would never do that! The unspeakable is not for children's ears! What are you thinking? ”She was beside herself. War and bloodshed, even the blood alone, were terrible things that weren't talked about. It was bad luck to bring the horrors of war back to life through tales! Everyone who witnessed the war kept their memories to themselves. Only in the temple was it allowed to speak to the priests about it in order to bring relief to one's soul. Alea made the sign of the three pillars in front of her chest.

"Do you miss prison already, Jacques? And you, Sylvia. How has your family been managing since our engagement fell apart? Have the losses you've suffered been too mild for your taste?" Sylvia stiffened, then trembled with rage. "You think I don't know you've been sabotaging LePenn Inc. behind the scenes? Your empire won't last forever, Richard. When it crumbles, LePenn Inc. will rise again." Jacques grew even more animated. "You won't get away with this, Richard! The internet is furious about your abuse of power. They'll deliver real justice." He looked ready to climb onto my car himself, as if he hoped the mob would follow and crush both the vehicle and me under their weight.

Nathan explained honestly. Angela pursed her lips. “Wow! It turns out it’s really nice to have a subordinate you can boss around.” Nathan smiled broadly. “Honey, it’s not quite like that. Being a leader isn’t easy either.” Angela immediately raised her hands in surrender. Of course, Angela understood what her husband meant. Goodness! It was still too hard to accept the fact that her husband was such a famous war general, admired by everyone. He wasn’t just someone who led many soldiers, he was also a hero to his country.

We have phones for that. My thoughts whirl. Nothing in these books has given me any sort of idea of how I could end this war without being shipped off like a prized pig. Most of it includes accounts of some of the worst battles; ones where too many lives were lost. I’m surprised both Shifters and Wyres have survived any of it.

It was an unexpected declaration of war where the werewolves were at a disadvantage, but that didn't mean they were already losing because the ravenous spirit of these beings was mighty, and they wouldn't be easily defeated. "They ended my brother's life in a cruel manner, so I will carry on his legacy and won't let any of you live. I will create chaos, and your wretched village will be the first to receive the fury of my revenge," Fiona says, creating a black-colored fire in her hand.

"Soon you'll understand what it feels like to lose everything. To have the people you trust become your enemies. To watch your world crumble." He picked up the photograph, studying Dante's young face. "You tried to bury me. But you forgot the most important lesson we learned together." His fingers traced the edge. "Dead men tell no tales. But ghosts? Ghosts come back to haunt you." Somewhere out there, Dante was probably holding Arabelle. Probably feeling safe. Probably forgetting that the most dangerous enemies aren't the ones you know about. They're the ones you've already left for dead. "Sweet dreams, brother."

There was a kind of respect in the way he let the question dangle. My father nodded once, a crisp downward dip of the chin. “For now.” Another pause, its duration just long enough to reestablish the hierarchy. Then he leaned back slightly, a posture less of relaxation than of disengagement. “There is a difference,” he continued, “between a war that begins by accident….” His gaze found Alexander again. “…and one that begins by design.” The implication hung between us. Someone wanted this war. It was no longer just a matter of pride or territory or even Gabriel; it was a matter of design, and my father intended to be its architect, not its victim.

·Third-Person· "Why?" The only word that came out of her mouth. Her expression is completely sharp with no emotions showing on her face. Her eyes are stagnant, but tears are streaming from them. Estelle Bellatrix Malraux is a free-spirited woman. A lady that was trained to fight and to lead the pack once her father stepped down from being the Alpha of their pack, Malraux.

Zoya said dismissively as she left for her room. Zoya's room was like a wonderland for different kinds of books, quotes, poetry, art and photos. She loved taking photos a lot and had two cameras which made this quite easy for her. Her wall was plastered with different colors of photos and aesthetic poetry that gives the room a very vibrant feel. It was large and very bright. This was also her favourite part of the house because she gets to do whatever she wanted in there without being criticized or called a nerd except on some occasions. Her room wasn't really like a typical female room, it was more like a library. With the very tall shelves inhabiting hundreds of novels and books, her furni