Frank Woods Black Ops 1 Novels & Stories

The eyes of the wiry one, the nose of Timothy, and a beard hiding his jawline. “What do you mean?” asked me Kate. The last men sat, and a few employees brought the food to the table. “Well, Blakemore itself has a little over a hundred members, but the under-packs have a lot of members. Blakewoods alone as a few thousand at least.” “Wait. What?” asked Timothy. His father scoffed at him, and I saw him looking between me and his father confused. “Under-packs?” he muttered. “Blakewoods?” asked Darren.

She was in dire need of money but she knew she wouldn't get out of this room after such a sum. - No, thanks... I don't need your money. The man's gaze changed and he put down his glass before saying: - Silly girl! I'm the only one who will offer you such a sum for your shitty virginity! Okey! Rose felt really threatened. She said nothing and tried to keep her composure even as the man approached her. She didn't back away because her feet were frozen with fear. This man disgusted her... Why had Tamie done such a thing to him? He touched her hair and Rose felt like throwing up as she took in the man's luxurious smell...

she whispered, her eyes tracking a series of rapidly ascending algorithms. [SYSTEM OVERRIDE: ACTIVE] [TURBINE REVERSAL: 22%] [GRID VOLTAGE: CRITICAL] She stripped away the automated security protocols, typing blindly into the raw code of the Blackwood infrastructure. She didn't need the graphical user interface anymore; she was reading the raw binary, understanding the machine’s pulse as if it were her own. The amber light beneath her skin flared brighter, casting long dancing shadows against the stone walls of the war room. A sudden violent tremor shook the keep.

I stopped in front of the man. He refused to look at me. "Look at me." My voice was calm. He hesitated. Marcus grabbed his hair and forced his head up. Our eyes met. Recognition flashed across his face. Then terror. I knew him. Daniel Brooks. Senior analyst. Finance Division. Five years with Blackwood International. "Do you know how I built Blackwood International?" The employee stayed silent. I took another step closer. "By trusting very few people." A faint smile appeared on the man's bruised face. "Then enjoy that trust while it lasts, Mr Blackwood..." "What is that supposed to mean?" The man laughed weakly.

We were using the Great Alpha's own playbook to defend against the war his rogue daughter had ignited. "Here," Idris pointed to a narrow pass in the northern mountains. "If the Night Fang moves, it will be here or here." His finger moved to the Black River ford. "They'll want speed and deniability. A small, elite strike team. Their objective won't be territory. It will be extraction or elimination." "Zed knows the Blackwood defenses," I said, the name like poison. "He designed half of them. He knows the rotation schedules, the blind spots, the escape routes."

Behind him were two enforcement wolves. "Prime Alpha Okoye," Black said, his tone mocking. "I hope I’m not intruding on a private briefing." Ifu straightened, his presence instantly expanding until the room felt like it was shrinking. "Detective. You are, as always, an annoyance." "I have a warrant for the Darkwater audit files," Black said, his eyes flicking to me. "It seems someone is laundering funds into black-market wolfsbane." Ifu didn't blink. "You have no jurisdiction here."

“There isn’t a single complete record of Operation Black Ridge.” “They were erased.” “That’s what it looks like.” Noah looked at the faded document again and slowly shook his head. “No. They weren’t erased.” Daniel frowned. “What do you mean?” “They were rewritten.” The room fell silent. Noah picked up a marker and walked toward the large glass wall at the center of the room. One by one, he wrote the names recovered from the report. Noah Volkov. Alek Sokolov. Marcus Hale. Ethan Cross.

Habit pulls at her fingers and she adjusts her glasses… The pressure is immediate. A hand settles on her thigh. It doesn't squeeze. It doesn't move. It simply claims the space, his palm searing through the fabric of her dress. Her breath catches. She stills, her pen hovering mid-word. “Mr. Ashcroft,” she murmurs, her voice a ghost of a sound. He doesn't look at her. His attention remains fixed on the market projections, his jaw relaxed, his posture unchanged. “This,” Mr. Blackwood says, “is the AX-9.”

Dawn was in danger and I couldn't feel it, wasn't even aware of it. Blood-curdling wrath filled my vision. They dared to go after what was mine. If they hurt Dawn. Thinking about it was enough to trigger the beast within me. My fangs ached, I wanted to tear something apart. This was the end of the road. I leaped into the air, my eyes zeroing in on Alaric's manic ones where he stood outside the fortress, then I lost my balance as I saw who it was that stood in front of him with a dagger pressed to her neck. I crashed to the floor, the shock of seeing her burning like fire through my veins. Alaric grinned in triumph, the eerie smile on his lips stretching grotesquely but I couldn't concentrate

They radiated an immense power, so it wasn’t hard to tell that these 3 large black wolves were Alphas. One of the rogues that I was fighting moved slightly, faced me, took advantage of the fact that I was distracted, and grabbed one of my front paws, applying pressure until I heard a loud crack. It only took a moment for a sharp and intense pain to run from the break throughout my body, making me drop to the ground. I can’t stop the whimpers that escape from my throat as I try to get back to my feet so I can get away from him. My whimpers seemed to bring everyone back to reality. The 3 black wolves growl low and joined in the fighting. Once they got involved, it didn’t take them long to kill