Gts Novels & Stories

“Let's talk.” I dried my eyes with my other palm and followed June and Evelyn to the three nights inn. It was less rowdy than the city. Today sucked. I finished my beer in a swig and took another mug. “Allow me to introduce my mate Gwen, his name is June.” She introduced the gentleman with a smile. He was tall, he had fair radiant skin, blue eyes and a pointy nose. He was a very handsome beta wolf. But I couldn't even pretend to be pleased. I was in a very terrible shape at the moment, and I didn't care to meet anyone new. “I'm Gwen.” I replied taking longer sips of alcohol. We were all silent, the atmosphere was awkward. I was still sober but I badly wished to get drunk. But what I saw was

Chapter 43: The Ghost in the Machine The Gulfstream G700 cut through the Atlantic night like a silver needle stitching together two disparate worlds, its twin engines humming a low, predatory growl at forty thousand feet. Inside the cabin, the atmosphere was thick—not with the luxury of Connolly leather and fine mahogany, but with the ionized scent of high-grade electronics and the metallic tang of stale adrenaline. Julian Vance sat in the pivot-point leather swivel chair, his eyes fixed on a wall-mounted 42-inch OLED screen that displayed a cascading, rhythmic waterfall of green and amber code. Beside him, Elena was physically tethered to the plane’s hardened satellite uplink via a fiber-op

Alexander Kane, "Pursuant to your recent separation from Kane Global, you are required to return the company-issued vehicle (2024 Bentley Continental GT, license plate KG-001) to the corporate garage at 45 Kane Plaza by end of business today. Failure to comply will result in legal action for unauthorized possession of company property. This asset was allocated during your tenure as CEO and is no longer yours to use." Regards, Corporate Compliance Team Kane Global. I stared at the screen, the words blurring as my vision tunneled.

Ace stood by the window, his back to the door, while a man Lisa didn’t recognize sat in one of the chairs, his eyes darting toward her as she entered. “Ace,” Lisa called out, her voice cutting through the silence. He turned to face her, his expression hard to read. “Lisa. What are you doing here?” “I tried calling you,” she said, stepping further into the room. “Why didn’t you answer?” Ace glanced briefly at the man seated in the chair before turning back to Lisa. “I was busy.” Lisa’s eyes narrowed as she looked between the two men. “Who is this?” The man stood up, offering a slight nod in her direction. “My name’s Grey. I’m here to help.”

She met my gaze, her eyes reflecting determination. Isabella passed me the shimmering symbol, infused with ancient power—a crescent moon woven with intricate symbols of strength and unity. "Where do you want it?" I asked Benita. On my arm, she replied as she extended it. With careful precision, I pressed the heated metal against her forearm. She flinched, the sensation of heat and tingling spreading, but she gritted her teeth, steadfast through the marking. As I finished, the symbol glowed softly, marking her as my Luna and leader of the Moonrise pack.

What was he up to? My jaw dropped to the ground when I saw him entering a crimson red 2023 convertible Ferrari 812 GTS. This beast had a 6.5 litres V-12 engine and it could reach over 100mph in less than ten seconds and it cost over five hundred thousand dollars. The street lights reflected on the car's metallic body making it super shiny.

I said to him teasingly, I could see the look in his eyes telling me I was playing with fire, but getting burnt by such a Greek god didn't seem like a problem to me. I gave him his goodbye kiss, but not just that as I took my hands slowly down his members as I teasingly robbed on it before breaking the kiss and pushing him away from me then I quickly opened my car door and got in, closing it quickly, he tried to open it but I already had my car on gear, driving away, I laughed at his situation.

Someone had posted under the handle Phoenix_GT, and the post had seventeen thousand views in four hours. I read it twice. Tessa Sterling had shown up at the Brooklyn underground two nights ago. She had not come quietly. She had arrived in a GT3 she had brought down from the Sterling Motorsports compound upstate—a race-prepped Porsche 911, professional livery stripped off and replaced with matte black, the kind of preparation that said she had been planning this for a while. She had run three heats. She had won all three. She had done it by margins that nobody in the Brooklyn underground had seen in a long time.