Graystripe Warriors Novels & Stories

“I told him I wouldn’t marry his son.” Basil chuckles. “His son’s already married—to a blacksmith’s daughter. She’s terrifying, and he loves her.” Maya blinks, surprised. “Oh.” “You’re off the hook.” “Well, good.” Basil turns to Damian. “This isn’t a deal, Alpha. There’s no fine print, no hidden costs. Gracia isn’t looking for anything in return. He’s sending these warriors because it’s the right thing to do. Even if you said no, the warriors would still stay.”

I called out, “before our banquet officially begins, I’d like to present something special. A glimpse of the future under my chairmanship.” I nodded to a guard by the main doors, who blew three short blasts on a silver horn. The massive oak doors swung open, revealing rows of uniformed wolves standing at attention. “Behold,” I announced proudly, “the elite Sapphire Sky warrior formation. The finest fighters in ten territories, trained personally under my supervision.” At my signal, the warriors marched forward in perfect formation, their armor gleaming under the lights. Each carried ceremonial weapons—silver spears and moonstone daggers—that sparkled dangerously.

They had finished off the enemy around them with superb fighting power, and now they were also looking for the right opponent. Tyr had brought together many great warriors under his camp for this war. His camp was occupied with countless good fighters. Sachin camp also entailed many supreme fighters, such as Dean Young and Jason Garcia who were super fighters from ex-Great Sky Group, or blind old man and Ali, the foster sons of Sachin. Each of them had tapped into their full strength. Many enemies were described as vulnerable in front of them. The same went for the Golden Garrison and Vajra of the Moore family. They were the top shelf first-class fighters of the south. Their combat power cou

“How is the Moon Crescent pack holding up?” “Badly. They lost most of their warriors and the damage we dealt to them was so severe that it might take them a whole year to recover their losses. But their pride wouldn't let them back down from a fight they can't win so their only option is to keep sending out warriors until all their resources has been depleted.” I let out the breath I didn't know I was holding and stared into the depths of his indigo eyes and a creep smile was plastered one his lips.

Third Person's POV Grayson rushed out of the house with Maverick right behind him. Both were a little surprised to see a full war had broken out while they were inside. Grayson was surprised by how many warriors Mark had; it was more than he had thought this little pack had. Grayson only brought 400 men, and it looked like Mark had well over 400, outnumbering him. With the number of pack members they had, he didn't think they would have this many warriors. Not unless they kick out all their elderly and anyone else unable to fight, leaving only the warriors. With how twisted this pack seems to be, he wouldn't put it past them.

The referee called it accidental. Silvergate’s captain smiled apologetically. I didn’t trust it, of course. Not one bit because it is so damn obvious to someone who has eyes that that was intentional! My hands clenched against the railing.. Woodhill had to defeat three teams. Three… I tried to remember the small infos that I had on these four teams.. North Crest were silent strategists. Silvergate—smiling schemers, actually this is so fucking annoying. And.. Blackmoor Dominion—openly cruel. This calls for either chaos or murder and there's even nothing in between.

I didn’t have time to think. The warehouse was at war. We fought our way toward the stairs, blood slicking the concrete beneath our boots. Janie stayed at my back, her gun barking, each shot precise despite the tremor in her hands. Grayson was a storm of claws and rage, cutting a path through anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. Lira’s laughter echoed, sharp and unhinged, her blade painting arcs of crimson. Kael covered us all, his kills quick, merciless. But Silver Ash was endless.

Didn’t dare breathe too loud. And then—I heard voices. Loud and harsh. I pressed my eye to a crack in the wall, my blood turning to ice. Warriors. At least ten of them, armed to the teeth, marching in formation. And in the center— Alpha Grayson. He was a huge man with broad shoulders and very unkind eyes. Even from here, his presence was suffocating. Power rolled off him in waves, dark and unyielding. His face was carved from stone, his eyes cold, calculating. A predator in human skin.

well, a win is a win, regardless of the distance of scores. He tried disappearing through the chanting crowds, cartwheeling cheerleaders, and barking athlete, but he couldn't. Every one of their joyful charade, had an impact on him. They'd either kick, push, butt shoulders with his, or shower him with sweats. While some apologised, others didn't bother at the curtsey. But as he struggled through, another, even more troublesome than the rowdy barbarians, scooped in more than he could handle that morning. "I see what you're doing there. Don't even think for a second that you'll be able to escape me that easily."

“I don’t want to go back home. I want something…bigger. My parents love being on the fringe. It makes them happy but being here, with all these guys...” I nodded my head. “I know exactly what you mean. War, it’s shit and horrific but you’re together. You’re in a weird, irreplaceable team.” “That’s it, yeah.” “Well, you know Cragstone needs Beta Warriors. There’s no reason, once this war is over, that you have to stop being part of all this.” His eyes softened towards me, just a bit. Enough to tell me I’d tapped into a little well of hope within him. I bet he never claims the gold. “Just watch out for those Kharkov girls,” I grinned.