Infamous Reapers Novels & Stories

"They cut the hardline." Kael sat beside me. He was vibrating with tension. He had ripped off his tie. His knuckles were white as he gripped the door handle. "How many men?" Kael asked. His voice was a low rumble that shook the seat. "Dorian has a team of four," I said. "But my father would not send thugs. He would send the Reapers." "Reapers?" "Private military contractors," I explained. "Genetically enhanced. Pain resistant. They are the ones who burned our house down five years ago."

I see with horror pictures of the men who are part of my daily life and me. They are all there. From the old newspaper vendor on the corner to the food delivery man. From the maintenance man to the manager of my company. The bastard remains silent and just watches my reaction. I swallow hard because that's the effect all the men in this damn Family have when they target someone: dread. The chilling fear. The kind that makes you freeze in place and forget which Saint to beg for help. When the men of the Family want to get something, they send capos. When they still don't get it, they send Santo. Nobody says no to Santo. At least, those who did say no are no longer in this world to tell.

No names on this job, only call signs. We have Reaper, Ghost, Shade, Viper and me, Blade. They were the best the clan ever trained, monsters I’d bled beside before I ever wore a professor’s jacket. Each one carried the feather scar somewhere on their body, each one owed Old Might their soul. But tonight they answered to me. Reaper, he's tall, shaved head, and his voice sounded like gravel. He was the first to speak. “Package count?”

"Fathia?" Immediately, the atmosphere became noisy, and a single cough loud enough drowned out the echoing voices there. "Correct. All of Clara's questions are true. Fathia is still alive. The funeral was staged. But the most important thing of all this is...," Sebastian looked at Alef again without any doubt. Ignoring many other gazes that were also directed at him. As if they were thrown into another dimension just to understand what was really happening. "And Mr. Alef Walker as well, the mastermind behind the explosion that happened at Fathia's campus."

“I’ve been waiting to get a hold of you all night. I . . . read your letter regarding the Viscera Sisters. I take it you’ve already claimed them?” “I have.” “Are you quite positive that was a good idea? There have been fakes, after all. Ones that killed those who tried to claim them.” “It was the only way to be sure,” said Salem. “Actually, Warren, I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to ask: how do you control so many Reapers at once? I’m still learning to do that for my Uncivil. Trying to see from so many eyes is . . . disorienting.”

The Reaper returns at dawn. I haven't slept. None of us have. We've spent the night in the foundation, planning. Preparing. Panicking quietly. "Training starts now." She announces. No greeting. No warmth. Just business. "You have three months to learn what death itself took eons to master. We begin immediately." "Who are we fighting?" Damon demands. Always the alpha. Always needing control. Always asking the questions that matter. The Reaper's smile turns cold. "Someone you know. Someone Aurora knows very well. Someone who died because of her. Someone who wants revenge so badly they're willing to destroy all of existence to get it."

She whispered to her own self. "What?" He asked her loud and clear. "So you are from that mafia gang, Stalza." She screamed on top of her lungs since she was scared. And to her reaction, the men around her pushed their ammunitions further to her throat. "Hehe," his eyes lit up, "That's right princess. I am from that dirty mafia gang everyone is talking about." He got up and spread his arms, as though he was trying to say that he own the entire world,

My eyes snapped open. My breathing was uneven, chest rising and falling rapidly. This wasn’t a dream. This was a past life. My hands trembled as I stared at the pendant again. I had died. And I was here again. Reborn. In the same world. With the same people. With Aurelia still alive. A slow, dangerous smile curved my lips. “So that’s how it is,” I muttered. Fate gave me another chance. Not to repeat mistakes. Not to watch from the sidelines.

When Celeste saw the fury in his face, she immediately shifted into victim mode. Her expression became wounded and confused. "Marcus, what's wrong with you? Are you still angry at me? I know you're upset about Aria, but that's not my fault." She reached out to touch his arm, but he pulled away like she had burned him. "I'm asking you a direct question," he said, his voice deadly calm. He pointed at specific drug names on the medical reports. "These immunosuppressants - Lupus Bane, Moonlight Poison, Silver Root extract. Did you take them before your medical examinations?"

Hope bloomed in her stomach as a plan began to form in her head. “Have any of you heard from David?” She asked. “No,” Francesca shook her head. “Not since Chelsea posted your DNA reports,” Tamara blinked in shock, “She did what?!” Marco sighed. “That’s how the whole world found out. She basically——“ “Posted a DNA test results showing you’re the same person as Elena Sanchez, along with a write up of how you’re crazy obsessed and came back to take revenge,” Francesca finished with a sheepish look. “It’s bad, but don’t worry, Kim has been working hard to scrub all traces from the internet,”