Fenrir Novels & Stories

“Buzzer, I like you, but I will shoot you in the fucking head if you refer to her as pussy one more time. She wasn’t planted on me. I knew she was Trip’s sister when I pursued her and since then, I’ve seen Trip once, at the annual biker run and my affiliation with Bandit is none of your fucking business. I have the same affiliation with almost every MC in the state, so fuck you and your assumptions.” “We’re not affiliated with the Reapers, despite who Wrath fucks. We’re friendly with Trip, just like we’re friendly with you,” Nitro said. “We want a new alliance. We want back in on the runs and we want a cut from the Stalker territory,” Mutt said.

All that remained within him was the desire to kill. He was deep in the frenzy of violence when it happened... A powerful, agonizing string of tension—a silent, visceral yank—tore through his chest. It pulled with impossible force. The red filter clouding his vision melted away. He stood motionless. The murderous rage was gone, replaced by that heavy silence and an unfamiliar, aching yearning. Then a deep, guttural sound tore through the quiet landscape. It was not his voice. It was the Fenrir—the ancient beast within him—awake for the first time in ages. It commanded in a primal growl:

“That’s where the archives are kept.” “And where your family is,” I added softly. Fenrir nodded once. “Yes.” We stopped at the base of the steps. Two elven sentinels stepped forward, spears crossed. Their armor gleamed, their expressions unreadable. “Halt,” one said. “State your purpose.” Fenrir lifted his chin. “Fenrir Aerindor. Son of the Silver Crown. I request entry.” The sentinels froze. One of them stared openly now. “You were… exiled.”

His voice was a low, deep rumble in the morning air. "I am," I said, my voice just as flat. "The black one," he said, patting the neck of the beast on his left, "is a high-strung, ill-tempered, murderous bitch. Her name is Hela. She will try to kill you." I just stared at him. "The one on the right," he said, patting the other, "is a high-strung, ill-tempered, murderous bastard. His name is Fenrir. He will kill you."

“Raiker and I managed to escape. We hid in the labyrinth and masked our scents.” There was a moment of silence before he continued. “At first, I hated Fenrir.” The pause carried a weight that almost made me tremble. “Maybe that’s why he chose me.” I frowned. “What do you mean?” Daimon leaned in. The movement was slow and calculated. His hand touched my chin, forcing me to look at him. The warmth of his skin against mine sent an electric shock through my body. His touch was firm. Commanding. “Fenrir is not an ordinary wolf.” His voice was low, almost a murmur. But every word carried something dense and dangerous. “He is fiercer.

Eva Fenrir— The Primordial Wolf, Sköll— The Sun Hunter, Hati— The Moon Hunter, Fenris Graymane— Tribal Elder: Keeper of the Lore, Thiess the Sentinel— Heroic Defender, Remnar Monteal—Tragic Werewolf. My index finger paused, looming over the name. Remnar Monteal. Could Monteal mean the same Monteal I know? The names were carved into the deep-mahogany page of a weighted book I had struggled to open initially.

Daniel demanded. "I don't know everyone. But I know key categories. Medical personnel. Engineers. Fighters with combat experience. Fertile women under thirty-five. Essential skills only. He's rebuilding civilization with curated population." "Eugenics," Sarah said. "He's implementing eugenics." "He's implementing survival." Marcus met her eyes. "And you're all going to die in four hours unless you get on that list." Maya lowered the gun slightly. "Why should we believe you? You've lied about everything. Your name. Your identity. Your loyalty. Why is this suddenly the truth?"

"I'm—I'm sorry Sam. I know you tried to save him with all your might. But I, I was just . . . really furious right now!" "That's why we should stop blaming each other. We have a enemy to interrogate and to kill." Malco led the way with Alexander, Mel of the fey clan, Jason with Sam supporting in his shoulders behind him. They reached the dungeon where the the person was being chained with silver bane. A painful and very sharp weapon created by the Werewolf faction. This time he pulled the trigger and raised the gun in their enemy face. "Where is Alexandra?!" Alexander demanded as he dug the gun in his wound, causing the person to shriek in pain. But after a minute he began laughing and spat

The constant comparing from their father caused the young Christopher to go astray, he abused his power and used all his people as his subject for his experiments and gradually remade the deadliest poison that everyone had forgotten. Nemir, the poison, and Miren the antidote to all poison. Nemir could be used either to cure or to kill. But was commonly used for torturing. While Miren is said to be the cure for everything no matter what poison you took, as long as you have it, your life will be saved.

Fenrir won't let anyone take that away from her. He pulls his hood over his head and starts walking towards the voices. "Kill. Kill. Kill." How dare they threaten her. Fenrir's anger turns into excitement. Licking his lips in anticipation for bloodshed, wanting to see the look on their faces when they realize that death is coming for them. He steps into the light, displaying himself to his enemies in a grand fashion. Compared to him, they are but mere ants standing in front of a God. Their breaths visible in the cold air, their pupils dilating, blood pumping faster. Everything in their body is screaming at them to run. But somet