Front Man Novels & Stories

Do whatever you need to survive. The man chuckled softly, and I froze, every hair on my body standing on end. A shiver ran down my spine as I imagined the mocking grin on his face. His warm breath grazed my neck as he finally spoke, "At last…” His voice was low, almost as if he was deliberately disguising it, making it impossible for me to recognize. A faint and oddly pleasant scent of mint filled the air around him, and it snapped me back to the reality that this man had broken into my home.

My eyes flutter open, and I find myself staring at the enemy standing before me. An old man, weathered and worn, his grizzled appearance belying the strength that still resides within him. He holds a gun in his hand, his grip steady and unwavering. It's evident that despite the passage of time, this man knows how to fight. His towering physique speaks volumes of a formidable warrior from days gone by.

He waved briefly at me when he realized our arrival. A foreign man stood alone in front of the crowd of Pack members who were on standby. Blood flowed from his temple but judging by his face he seemed to be the same age as Alex. The man was only wearing gray training pants that were already dirty and exposed to dry blood, he wasn't even wearing footwear.

“Who have you brought with you?” Behind Howard stood four equally intimidating men of various sizes, all clearly armed to the teeth, as was Howard, dressed in dark clothing, ready to begin the operation as soon as the word was given. “This is my team,” Howard began. His voice matched his appearance, more of a growl than human speech, and he went down the row giving Giovani the name of each of them as he did so. “Martin, Tanner, Preston, and this big guy here on the end, well, we just call him Meat.”

Vince said as he took me by the hand to lead us out. Just then, someone began clapping. “Re Vincenzo Romero.” A coarse voice called, halting our movement. I felt Vince’s body stiffened again. “Fabiano “ He growled before we both turned around. My heart skittered at the sight of a fat man in front of a gang of mobsters. He was draped in gold, heavily tatted and his demeanor frivolous. “Nice to see you again… with a female none the less. I was scared you’ve become a priest.” He said, grinning and exposing a complete set of gold teeth.

since I wasn’t ready for this impact I ended up falling flat on my stomach on wet floor…. “AAhhhh…..” I cried in pain but quickly sat back on my knees and turned my head only to see a big man wearing a dark color armor suit standing in door frame…. he looked like some solider with a cold personality, an old but very long cut scar was present on his left side of his face which was starting from forehead and coming all the way down and vanishing into his long yet groomed mustache and beard…

I shove him sideways, lying on the ground covered in blood and knowing I need to get out of here before more come, I don't have the strength to fight anymore, but clapping causes me to look to my right. "That was… truly… a sight to behold. I'll give it to Abaddon, he's a rubbish Alpha, but he clearly trained you well." A man offers me his hand to stand up and when I'm on my feet, I can't get over what I'm looking at. With his dark brown eyes, hair that's still mostly black and a face that looks just like mine. This man in front of me could be me, in like forty years or something, I just have no idea how that's possible unless I've got an uncle or something I never knew about.

She should not be seeing this. Without thinking, I yelled, "I am Preston Whitmore's employer! I'm the CEO of Harlan Group!"

At that moment, an irate man's voice cut through the tension. A middle-aged man with a commanding presence approached, flanked by a retinue of his kin. He was Rainger Brown, head of the Brown family, one of Mareno City's most influential clans. Trailing just behind him was a seasoned man in his sixties, with a deep gaze and a formidable presence. He exuded the initials of a martial general, every inch the veteran warrior. "Who are you people!?" Rainger demanded, his entourage halting before Howard and his companion. His scowl was thunderous, a storm ready to burst.

I take an involuntary step back as the man with those terrifying red eyes steps into the hall, his smirk curling like poison across his lips. His face—it’s Adam’s face. My heart pounds painfully in my chest, my instincts screaming at me to run, but my legs feel rooted to the ground.