Hector Rendon Novels & Stories

That's the man who helped Jackson. - What is your name? – I could see in his face that he knew I had already identified him. - My name is Jack. Everything went downhill afterward. I kept the exchange short, trying to get out of there. He could hurt me or my pup. One hit on my head, and all I saw was darkness.

“YOU HAVE TO LET ME GO, YOU TRUNK OF A MAN!” A low, sinister chuckle leaves his lips at my lame insult, his wide shoulders shaking slowly at the motion. “My name is Santino Ricca.”

That was impossible from a political standpoint. Hector refused to believe this either. A head of division in his twenties? That could only be possible if his father was Orin Campbell. All of a sudden, Hector jumped in shock. He recalled hearing this young man say his name was Faron Campbell. His last name was Campbell. Orin Campbell had only one son. This was way too much of a coincidence… The thought made Hector begin to tremble. He would be done for if that was really the case. Just then, Sal shouted, "Who the f*ck are you kidding, a head of division in his twenties? Do you think I'm a f*cking idiot?"

The only sound was the distant hum of a boat on the river, giving Dante a moment to process the weight of the news. "I'm ready, Mr. Vance," Dante said, his deep voice steady. "I know the playbook. I'll be at the facility at six." "You better be," Vance replied. "The networks are going to break Henderson's injury in the next ten minutes. The media room will be an absolute circus tomorrow morning. Keep your head down, trust your team's protection, and focus on football. I'll see you on the field." The line went dead with a heavy click. Dante lowered the phone, the calm warmth disappearing from his face as the quarterback took over. He looked down at Ariana, and a faint trace of his real smile

“Papa shouts, ‘Go to your room and lock the door.’” “Then?” “I-I run,” Horror screens her face. “Blue eyes catch my hand! I bite him! And red blood on his car tattoo, and—” “Shut up!” I take out my phone and log in to my hack site. The image staring at me knocks me ass-first to the ground. Hatred, hot enough to combust me to flames, ignites inside me. KENDRICK MARTINS. Professional car racer: blue eyes, car tattoo, wielding a trophy with a broad smile.

“What if I made a mistake?” Her expression softened perfectly, beautifully like she’d practiced it in a mirror. “You didn’t,” she said. “You chose us. And we chose you.” Hector’s phone buzzed. He checked it, eyebrows lifting. “Well,” he said, smirking. “Looks like the Italians aren’t as invincible as they think.” Isolde stood, moving to his side. “What is it?” “Matteo Ricci,” Hector said. “He’s alive. Barely. Still in Texas.”

Audrie opens the back door as I carry Isla's exhausted body to the back seat, where I lay her down. Growls pull our attention to the field aside from the road. Grabbing a pair of shorts from the back, I jog off in their direction; I come across Tate's smashed-up white Ford Raptor. Gazing in the driver's window, Oh fuck, Tate's face down on the steering wheel, a chunk of metal jutting out of his back. I pry open the door, he still has a pulse, and there's no way I'm pulling that out until a doctor says. I pull his limp body out and carry him back to my car. He's a heavy mother fucker.

~Introduction to the Male lead~ Name: Zion Black Knight. Age: 19 years. Lives in: Manchester. A British national. Height: 6.1ft, Fair skin, black eye. He is a high schooler. He is somebody that can't be restrained or tamed. The child of world's best and richest businessman, Andrew Black Knight. The one who brought the renovation in the entire IT industry. He is rich, handsome and intelligent with a photographic memory. Perfect in every way.

I don't think I could ever forgive myself if something were to happen to him. “We will find him, Lucas. He is our Beta and the best fighter in this pack, I know nothing would have happened to him.” Mateo said, but I shook my head. It's been a year since she left him, and he hasn't still recovered from that rejection, and I don't think he would ever completely come out of it.

Now Hector doesn’t have to spend his days where people could stare at the burn scars. “Hector!” I reach out and shake his hand before he swallows me in a hug. “Elder Randall, Hector Sanchez is one of our veterans who has acclimated back to pack life. His younger brother Marco is currently deployed. Hector, Elder Randall.” “Ah, pleasure to meet you, Sir.” Hector formally salutes Randall. His rich accent reminds me of Marco. “Th-thank you for your service.” Randall gawks at Hector’s scarred face. I stand back and suppress a smile when Hector’s warm demeanor changes by Randall’s reaction.