Garreth Weasley Novels & Stories

The door swung inward with a violent thud against the wall, and my heart slammed into my throat, choking off any scream before it could form. A figure loomed in the doorway—one of Taehyung's guards, a burly wolf named Garrick, whose face I'd seen twisted in leers during pack gatherings. His uniform was disheveled, shirt half-untucked, and the reek of cheap whiskey hit me like a wave, sour and overpowering, mingling with the metallic tang of sweat. His eyes, bloodshot and glazed, raked over me with a hunger that made my skin crawl. This wasn't the disciplined sentinel Taehyung demanded; this was a beast unleashed by the bottle.

Why was it that they were soundly defeated by Tyr? A drop of cold sweat rolled down Garth’s forehead as scenes from Olympia Arena began flashing in his mind. He knew of Tyr’s abilities, but never expected him to be so strong. After taking care of the fighters, Tyr turned his attention toward Garth and slowly approached him. Nobody stood between them this time. “I am Andraste Cheever’s grandson and the third-generation heir of the Cheever family. You can’t hurt me,” said Garth, panicking as he felt the murderous intent coming from Tyr.