Novel & Cerita Hector Dagworth Granger

Hector saw it and made the mistake men like him always make at the worst possible time: he tried one last time to own the narrative by sounding reasonable. “I needed the packet delayed,” he said. “I needed the witness line slowed. I needed one hour in which panic could be managed before all of you destroyed what remains of the company.” I said, “You dragged your son into a cellar to buy an hour.” His gaze cut to me. “And you would have done nothing for your sister?” There it was. Always the same move. Take the dead. Put them in another man’s mouth. Hope grief becomes confusion. I walked toward him.

At this time, Hector approached the two and uttered, “Brother Fane, I heard that you’re a bodyguard of the Drake family, right?” Fane had already outstretched his leg and was about to leave the place. He did not expect such a question to pop out of Hector’s mouth. He nodded in conformity with the question, “Yes, what’s the matter?” “I heard that they pay you twenty million bucks a month. I find that you’re a gifted talent, after watching you and my men trying out each other. I really admire you for your skills!” Hector answered with a gentle smile. “That’s right! Master Hector is right! Brother Fane, we’ve heard your big name a long time ago. Your talent will be gone into the drain if you co

He was cold, calculating, and ruthlessly efficient. After dropping another officer to the ground, Hector paused on the stairs, quickly taking one of Edgar’s men hostage, using the officer’s body as a shield to cover himself from any incoming fire. His eyes locked with Edgar’s below, and his voice was low, laced with a biting amusement. “I didn’t expect it to take you this long to find me, Captain.” Edgar’s jaw tightened, but he didn’t shoot. His restraint was clear, his fingers twitching near the trigger as he fought to keep his emotions in check. “Give her back to me,” Edgar growled, voice low and threatening.

They all turned to the door when they heard someone walk in, interrupting them. "Gregory." Derek called in surprise, seeing him walk in. It's been a while since he checked up on him. "Hey boss."Gregory greeted shortly, walking to the table where they gathered. "Hector. He's working with us, but we all know he has some selfish benefits to everything." "Like?" Hagatha stared up at him, quirking her brows. Derek wasted no time explaining all he knew about Hector to them. "That is exactly what he wants to do. It's not hidden."

Darcy and her family were seated at the corner, which upset Agnes. “Why?! Even Agatha and her family are seated in front. Why must we sit at the back here? Darcy is the head of the Quint family branch. Other than the few military personnel, who else here is stronger than you?” Hector sighed. “Agatha and her family are in front because Nelson is the right-hand man of Vanik Clifford of South River Strategic Department. Your brother needs him to entertain the people from the military, so they are in front.

"Where do you think they might be at this time of an hour?" "Vlora?" he asked then continued, "She doesn't sleep before everybody comes." "The car of our alpha is not here..." "Yes, they went on a date...the couple. As for Ms Dasher and Weston, they have gone on a road trip for getting an abbot." "An abbot?" he asked with a frustrating face. "The senior of the monks...the father of the fathers..." "And?" "Weston says he may help us getting rid of Paxson, the child eater."

She was the engine that made the gala run, and Greg watched her with the distracted intensity of a man who had finally realized he was outmatched. But it was Hector who stood as the true outlier. Known as the "Stone of the Vanguard," Hector was a man of ironclad discipline and devastatingly few words. He was the one who cleaned up the messes no one else could touch. He was the one who didn't blink when the world caught fire. Yet, as the heavy mahogany double doors at the back of the hall swung open to admit the final, late arrivals, the "Stone" cracked. His champagne glass didn't shatter, but the stem groaned under a sudden, violent pressure. His knuckles turned a ghostly white.

I know she’s heard his name before because I’ve seen her reading the news and there are always theories everywhere trying to identify Wyatt. “I know this sounds scary, but you are family, you are with Dash, so that means you are protected, not just by him but by all of us, we take care of family and we don’t let anyone get in the middle and fuck with what is ours, but we will never hurt you,” Wyatt adds taking a step closer to Grace and she stands still. Her eyes moving from Wyatt to Jagger and then to me. I can tell she is trying to puzzle everything together. “This makes no sense,” Grace says, stepping away from me and I try to hold her hand and she shakes her head. “How can you be The Rea

“Caitlin is not to be trusted.” Only Carson remained bewildered. “Why not let her in? Isn’t she family? What’s the big deal?” “You don’t understand a thing. Stay out of this,” Fletcher snapped, silencing his son. “Enough,” Hector barked. He slammed the end of his cane against the floor, his face pale, sweat beading at his temples. “My life is already in her hands. Prepare the carriage—now.” The antidote he had taken yesterday was wearing off, and the crawling agony was already stirring again inside him. He struck the cane harder, his voice breaking with urgency. “Do you hear me? Prepare it at once!”

He closed his eyes, making it impossible for anyone to see what was on his mind. Ten minutes later, he opened his eyes and pointed at the page listing down Ashton's information. "If I'm right, it was this man, Ashton Gray, who attacked the Wraiths and the A-ranked expert." Hector was stunned to hear Lawrence come to that conclusion. He'd considered that possibility as well, but it was still rather unbelievable. "Is it possible that you're mistaken, Mr. Clarkson Senior?" Hector asked. "The person who took them down had to be an S-ranked expert, but Ashton is only in his late 20s.