Hunter Chen Novels & Stories

"The cryptocurrency trail was good, very good, but they slipped up, One of the wallet addresses was previously used in a transaction five years ago, A donation to a cancer research foundation, The donation was made under a real name," "Whose?" "Victoria Chen," The name meant nothing to me, "Who is Victoria Chen?" Sarah pulled up records on her screen, "Victoria Chen, Age forty two, Lives in Boston, No criminal record, Works as a financial analyst, But here is the interesting part, Twenty three years ago, her father owned Chen Pharmaceuticals, Small but successful company, Then Four's father took over, Hostile takeover, Destroyed the company, Stripped the assets, Sold everything for parts,"

Aayush. Chris Chen and Ho Tai Yuan are both 22, and Aayush is 23. While I was absorbed with their pictures, the Colonel made a quick introduction that caught me off guard. “Gentlemen, Dr. Anthony Jin, the legendary Supernatural Professor. The man who we all hope can help to find the boys.” There was a round of lame applause, which gave me insight into how seriously they took me. I nodded and cleared my throat before speaking. “Thank you, Colonel. I am no Supernatural Professor, just a humble servant at your service.”

Two dragged a third man between them, his massive frame slumped and bloody. They chained him to the opposite wall, his groans echoing in the small space. I kept my mouth shut, my gaze locked on the floor. It wouldn’t matter what I said or did—they’d already made up their minds about me. One of them turned to me, his eyes gleaming like a predator sizing up its next meal. “This the one the Alpha’s been talking about?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Yep. Two damn decades he’s been hunting this fucker,” the other replied with a chuckle. “Little shit’s slippery, though. Must’ve gotten it from his family. They were hunters, weren’t they?”

My mouth gaped open. “So, this is where you’ve been hiding?” the stranger chuckled. But the laugh didn’t meet his intense darkened eyes as they scowled, scanning from Fiona to me. “We’ve been looking for you, Quiet One. Smart to swim away so we’d lose your scent. But you knew we’d find you… eventually. And how I’ll be rewarded on The Hill once I bring you back.” My eyes slit.

"Damien. He's so small." "They are." "I didn't understand that. How small." "What's his name?" "Henry." Another pause. "Natasha chose it. I said yes immediately." Henry Chen had died in 1997. Robert Chen's father, whose paintings were now in permanent collections in three Canadian institutions and whose catalogue sat on shelves in galleries and libraries across two countries. Julian didn't know any of that. Natasha might have. The name arrived from wherever names arrive from and it landed correctly.

"It's not Dave Harrison." My stomach dropped. "What? Who is it?" "Patrick Chen. Sarah Chen's cousin. Apparently, he blames Serena for his cousin's situation. Says Serena ruined Sarah's life by exposing Marcus's family." Patrick Chen. I have never even heard of him. "Are you sure?" I asked. "Positive," James said. "We have phone records, bank transfers, everything. He hired the assassins. He made the calls. It's all him." Relief flooded through me.

"David Chen died in 2017. Genetic condition. Dr. Chen provided death certificate. Medical records. Burial documentation." "He died biologically. But his consciousness was preserved in quantum space. He has been operating through clone bodies for eight years. Transferring consciousness between them as each one fails." Subject Seven leaned forward. "Dr. Chen is not whistleblower. She is part of the operation. She is manipulating federal investigation to eliminate us while protecting her son." "That is insane—"

THREE DAYS LATER – SAFE HOUSE – 3:47 AM Han hadn't slept in forty-eight hours. His eyes burned, his back ached, but he'd found something. A pattern in the chaos. "Wake up," he said, bursting into Chaewon and Jian's room. "Everyone. Now. I found him." Ten minutes later, the entire family stood in the war room, various states of awake, all focused. "The Architect," Han said, pulling up files. "Real name: Dr. Marcus Chen. Geneticist. Worked with Dr. Sarah Chen—the woman who created Luna and the other combat clones. They're siblings."

The hound doesn’t scream when they hit it. It calculates. Adapts. Its body liquefies mid-leap, reforming into something longer, sharper, built for speed. It bursts past them— And slams into an invisible wall. The Reverent’s shadows crystallize around it, sigils burning briefly before snapping tight. The hound thrashes, its form stuttering as definition crushes its adaptive loops. I skid to a halt and step forward, chest heaving. “You don’t get to change the rules anymore,” I say, voice echoing with layered power. “The Hunt sees you.”

Hunter sighed deeply and nudged the bay beneath him, gently shifting his weight to the right. "Let's go, Cheyenne," he muttered. The horse tossed her head and turned to the right, heading back toward the house. P.K. Chastain. Just the name irritated him. The notion of a grown man going by his initials struck Hunter as pretentious as fuck. The fact that P.K. Chastain was a lawyer representing Slade & Howell didn't engender him to the rancher any more than his name did.