Novel & Cerita Hounds Backrooms

I received the code of Anders wanting to talk to me, so I retreated to somewhere I was sure no one would hear me or sneak up on me, and opened communication. “I think I have bodies here,” said Anders. “Seen any?” I asked. “No. But I can smell them. I think they’re underground.” “Want me to get your six?” “Better safe than sorry.” “What’s your position?” He told me, and I made quick work of eating the distance between us. Once there, we moved quietly inside a building not unlike any other infiltration I did tonight. Inside, I got a whiff of decay. It was definitely decomposing meat. I also got something Anders probably didn’t get. That same type of bone-chilling feeling I got at the creepy bu

I had just said I was cured and escaped back into the cup of trouble and misery. If only I had gone to the cemetery, the one place that gave me a sense of peace, but I found myself in my house. I stopped straight at the liquor collection I owned, picked up a bottle of brandy and drank straight from it. I drank more and more hoping the memories and remorse would give me peace, but it didn’t. The more I drank, the more my mind became foggy, and the memories seemed more and more present. All the pain from the past came flooding back to me and I could feel it as if it was happening all over again, remembering every single detail. I could even hear the squeal of the wheels. I could even feel the

"Get lost! This is all your fault. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't be here!" "You two were inseparable before," I said calmly, looking down at them. "The moment things turn ugly, you sell each other out?" Digby lifted the shovel and aimed it at Gina's head. "No!" Gina shrieked. "Tiffany, you can't do this. I have tens of millions of fans. They'll come after you!" Right as Digby was about to swing, I blew a sharp military whistle. In the distance, Rex and Gunner, two military dogs I had trained overseas, were led down from the helicopters.

"The Star-Gate is at 90%." Suddenly, the tunnel ahead exploded. From the dust, four massive Hounds emerged. They were ten feet tall, their bodies a horrific fusion of wolf-flesh and chrome plating. Their eyes were solid red sensors, and their jaws were lined with laser-cut teeth. "Terminals detected," one of the Hounds said, its voice a synthesized howl. "Commencing deletion." "Marcus, take the others around!" Silas yelled, his shadow-spear igniting in his hand. "Elara and I will handle these!"

Remy “Back office,” Todd said, very soft, to no one and both of us. “I’ll lock the lobby. Jacek’s covering the road.” I turned, trotted through the shop door, and let the bay swallow me. The concrete was warm from the day’s labor. Grease cut the cold smell and reminded me of the human work that keeps the wolf fed. In the small back room we use for emergencies, I let the shift pull me back upright.

They are such annoying, intelligent creatures to deal with. As I looked into the battle once again, I was horrified by what I saw. Broken and sliced bodies of my minions litter the ground, they weren't able to resurrect entirely because of the endless assaults of the hounds. However, their immortality doesn't seem to do much to deter the invaders. Several distorted hounds loom before me, walking on four legs, their bent lower bodies are grotesquely bulked, and their heads are connected. Having sharp curved claws on their feet, they tore through the defences of my minions with ease.

Harridan Hamlet, Dread Country Chavias was making the long trek to Dread Country. Evening was drawing close. As customary the demon had sent Chavias to raid Harridan Hamlet on the edge of Dread Country. Knowing by now they'd have a healthy stockpile. Chavias caught the scent of a dead deer in an alleyway behind some booths. The slightly rotted stink of it immediately drew the attention of the demonic dogs, Targue and the demonic rodents, nonis, with him.

Damon’s POV The old barracks reeked of mildew and dust. Boards groaned under my boots as I moved through the ruins, light from my lantern slicing through the darkness. Wolves avoided this place, whispering that it was cursed, haunted by the screams of soldiers long buried. They weren’t wrong. But I wasn’t here for ghosts. I found the door hidden under the rotting floorboards, its iron handle cold beneath my palm. It resisted, as if warning me back, but one hard pull broke the rust and it creaked open. A stale rush of air hissed out, thick with the copper tang of blood.

Everything is frayed, the seams of my life coming apart. The lounge is silent when we enter, save for the low, hypnotic pulse of jazz through the walls. The front end continues its charade of high-end craft cocktails and polite conversation, but we slip through the hidden bulkhead in the larder, guarded by sentries who offer only a sharp, knowing nod. The back room reeks of aged leather and woodsmoke. It is my fortress. Zane moves to the bar and pours a triple measure of malt. Lucien paces, the floorboards groaning under his weight. Draven leans against the mantel, eyes fixed on the fire as if demanding a confession.

After a moment of thought, Oscar sighed and said, "Forget it. Since you can't get in tonight, let's just get a room near campus and return in the morning." This didn't seem to bother Oscar much. If anything, he sounded almost cheerful about the plan. From the hallway upstairs, I watched the whole thing unfold, struggling not to burst out laughing. Sienna was such a fool that it was only a matter of time before she ruined herself completely.