Hatchet The Novel Novels & Stories

At the clearing, close to the trees, there was a kind of house hidden within the trees—like a cabin—but blended well with its surroundings. A man was walking, a basket in his hand as he moved towards the cabin. No one would tell me twice—the old look on his face, a few wrinkles maybe, but he was still the same person—the man who murdered my family. He was out here picking shrubs with so much blood on his hands. How could anyone live with themselves, knowing full well what they had done? Several monsters with zero emotions were born from the Raven Fall Pack; this one just happened to be outside the pack.

I may not be able to take back what was done to her, but I could at least make those men pay. Took a little time, but I managed to find every single one and give them the deaths they so greatly deserved. The only one left was Zephyr. The one who started it all. His death will act as a warning to every man in this room, and maybe, just maybe, it will stop it from happening again. And if it doesn’t, then let them know I’ll be coming for them. They may all know me as Dasha Hatzis, daughter of Mihalis Hatzis; right-hand man of the of the most powerful mafia family in all of Greece. But to the rest of the world, I am known by my codename - Aconite; a lethal assassin who fears no man.

The raw version of the unscented one. Agony ripped through our bodies, sending waves of excruciating pain coursing through our premature veins. Both of us writhed in agony, as we yelled, and it echoed off the sterile walls of the lab. We even begged her to stop, but she wouldn’t, and she just blankly continued her deadly experiments. By the time she was done, I was so infuriated that I had another blast attack. Killing everyone in the room except for little Janelle. Is this why Hatchett’s so mad at me? I actually unconsciously killed her parents. I do admit though.. Knowing it now, I didn’t regret it. She deserved it! Who knows how many children she experimented on! “What to know a little se

The authorities won’t go against the Moretti’s or Alessa. “Hey, there are women here who need your help. Please get them back to their families safely. If they need anything in the future. Here is my number. Please have them reach out to me.” I say, handing the officer my number and details. She nods at me and heads further into this shithole to find the poor women. After what feels like forever, Hatchet is taken to the hospital. I look at the blood left behind that stains the floor and walls. My family’s men and some of the members of the MC are carrying the barrels and product outside into the van.

Hannah’s POV: If someone had told me when this nightmare started that the hardest part of my battle to reclaim my family’s company would be sneaking into Uncle Chen’s house dressed as a maid, I would have laughed—maybe even waved them off—but definitely not believed it. And yet, here I was, crouching in the dim light under a heavy mahogany table, heart pounding like a drum, praying that the floor wouldn’t betray me. The whole thing began with Mr. August.

Then there was that scarf I had stayed up nights knitting for him. I gathered them all up and threw them into the bathtub before lighting a match. The flames roared to life, consuming everything that bore traces of Theodore Scott and Isabella Jenkins' past. Finally, there was our bed. He had carefully chosen it in my favorite color, but now, it just made me sick. I took out scissors and cut it all into pieces. After that, I grabbed a hammer and destroyed every other item in the house that held memories of him. Everything I had once treasured was now in ruins.

In that realm, when Lucas first met me, he said, “You’re my mate, and I will cherish you for the rest of my life.” We were happy in the dream. I woke up to a dry pillow because the she-wolf who would cry for him had died that night three years ago. Now, I was Erin Hitch, a she-wolf at the top of the world and a powerhouse who needed no pity. As for Lucas, he was just a brief chapter in my life, a harsh lesson that taught me to grow up. That was all there was to it.

A tomb. Sabatine pushed past him, holstering his weapon. He shoved the torch into Anton’s hand. “Hold this.” He placed both palms flat on the cold metal, braced his legs against the stairs, and pushed with his whole body, a low, guttural sound of effort tearing from his throat. The muscles in his back and shoulders corded, visible even through his torn jacket. With a shriek of protesting metal and a shower of rotten leaves and dirt, the hatch gave way, swinging upward into the sweet, shocking cold of open night.

She grinned despite herself, that quick grin she had to hide at business tables. Marco opened the equipment closet and pulled out a hatchet. “We don’t keep axes in the sedan,” he said dryly, “but since you asked.” It fit his hand like a memory. “Grip at the end. Don’t muscle it. Let the weight do the work. Think of it as a heavy letter to an old friend.” He threw; the hatchet spun once and kissed the board, burying to the cheek. Some primitive part of the hindbrain purred. Sasha tried. The first throw sailed wide with theatrical insult. The second hit flat. The third stuck shallow. The fourth buried with a thunk that traveled up her bones. She made a noise she didn’t recognize—a small, delig

Or run? Then Jake remembered Survival Rule #4. [In this world, even common monsters are tough. But every kill drops rich rewards.] With that thought, Jake gritted his teeth and reached for his waist. The hatchet-gun was tucked there—the weapon he'd traded Universal Fuel for earlier. [Name: Hatchet-Gun] [Type: Weapon] [Quality: Common] [Ammo: 3/9] [Description: Melee slashing or ranged shooting. Downside: Massive recoil.] Jake gripped the hatchet-gun's handle. The cold metal against his palm steadied him somewhat.