Hunter Golden Guard Novels & Stories

Hunter could tell she was worried, so he said, "Holly, you should return to the hotel with your bodyguards and get some rest. We have to get it out by tonight so that we won't delay the process further." She knew he was worried that Tristan might get greedy. After all, it would be hard to be selfless when the treasure was right in front of him. Holly reminded him, "Please take care of yourself." Hunter said with a smile, "Don't worry. I have many men with me." She looked at the bodyguards he had brought. There were at least ten of them, and they were all specially trained and great at combat. It was pointless for her to stay there, so she left.

It was an awful feeling. I could barely speak without gritting my teeth. "Stop messing with me… I'm just a security guard. If my superior finds out, I could lose my job." Ms. Bombshell chuckled. She wrapped her hand around my manhood through my pants, gently squeezing it. "Think about it, Mr. Ziegler. Do you want me to give you a hand, or would you rather keep your boring job?" Her hand was small, but her grip was frightening. I found myself slowly melting away in her grasp.

Her hyper-fixation on the omega's safety has reached an unbearable peak; she refuses to let him traverse the Silvermoon Capital without an elite vanguard flanking his path, every guardian personally vetted and blood-sworn by the old king Joseph Jackson. Kim Jackson, the freshly appointed pack guardian commander, pulls the heavy iron door open. Jone steps out onto the stone courtyard, his heavy leather combat boots striking the pavement with a sharp, resonant thud as he strides directly toward the administrative wing. His broad shoulders are square beneath a tailored obsidian hunting vest, his hips swinging with a deliberate, masculine alpha-challenging stride that draws every eye in the gran

blue is really his colour. “I've shared the file with you. Look through it and find your partner.” I watch as he turns to the white board, raises his hand and starts writing something down. The fabric at his wrist slips away, revealing the small gold watch he wears there and more expanse of delicious skin. I really have to get myself together. I open my phone, d******d the file and skim through. Jackson, there it is. Paired with a McShaw. Who's McShaw?

She had no strength to. “Open the gate!” a deep, masculine voice said. The owner of the voice soon came into view; he was lofty and had huge scars on his elbow. A deep scowl rested on his face like it was permanent. “Y-Yes, sir,” the brown-haired, rangy guard on duty rushed towards her cell and unlocked the giant padlock, quickly opening the gate whose bars were coated with silver. The guard wasn’t hurt from contact with the silver since he was wearing gloves.

I work as a security guard at a luxury residential complex. My daily routine is simple but demands attention to detail. I register visitors, patrol the grounds, help residents park or move items, and handle occasional emergencies. One morning, a man suddenly showed up at the security booth. He wore an expensive suit and a luxury watch—clearly one of the wealthy residents. He placed a paper bag full of cash on the table and said: “Could you do me a favor in the underground parking garage? Afterward, this money is yours.”

The horse tossed its head, restless, before being led away by a waiting handler. The man immediately turned to someone standing nearby. A guard. Even from this distance, I could tell he wasn’t just any guard. He stood straighter than the others, broader through the shoulders. His posture was disciplined and rigid. Military. Authority clung to him the way the morning mist clung to the ground. Calder Hudson. River's crush. I recognized him from the night before—Chief of Protection. The man who Reginald probably trusted enough to close his two eyes around.

**<< STOP THORNE! He launched himself towards the clinic door, grabbing his HK416 from where it leaned against the wall. Harlan, face grim with understanding, moved to follow. **<< Finch. Stay. >>** Winters’s command was absolute. He tossed a set of van keys to Harlan. **<< Guard the package. Guard the tech. The doctor fights. You fight here. >>** He didn’t wait for argument, turning to Leo. **<< Move. >>**

Hakeem looked almost identical to Hugo. Both wore their distinctive gloves, and their hair was braided with bells tied into it. However, the difference was that Hakeem's gloves had a more metallic gleam. One was steel, one was iron, and it was clear which was stronger at a glance. "The Cunningham family has put out a billion-dollar bounty on you! Hugo and I couldn't care less about that billion!" Hakeem suddenly smiled and said casually. He continued, "But eliminating the number one genius from that mysterious organization back then, now that's incredibly appealing to us brothers, more exciting than any drug!"