Ironhand Book Novels & Stories

Some maids brought my breakfast and I asked for a medical to reduce my headache, which was brought soon after. The throbbing didn't reduce until after a few hours of sleep. I didn't realize that forcing myself to recollect the body owner’s memories could hurt like this. What about my own original memories about the life where I was Fenrir and not Hawk? Would I ever get those memories back? It was afternoon already, so I set off to the location Rudolph was working on. I bet he should know who Hunter is, since he is a new Alpha too, and if not…Maybe he will know the Moonbound Pack?

“But tell them this: If they ever move toward the North Coast again, I won’t just burn a book. I’ll burn the entire market. I’ll leak every offshore account, every shell company, and every hidden villa. I’m an Ares, Silas. I know how to destroy a world better than anyone.” Silas stared at me for a long moment, a ghost of respect flickering in his eyes. Then, without a word, he turned and vanished into the shadows of the house. I stayed in the library until the fire died down to a pile of grey ash. The ledger was gone. The letters were gone. The “compass” was broken. I walked out of the “House of Bone” and into the cold, clean Adirondack morning. The sun was rising over the lake, the light re

If there is a way, it is in this book. He runs his finger over the various titles of prophecy and catastrophic tales, and stops when he reads: “Hell's Gate”. - Hell's Gate. – reads aloud. - Should be it. – Gary says.

The mob seized the weapons and arrested all the corrupt officers present in the hut. Arinthal attempted to escape, using Lirien as a hostage. Eryndor sensed something was amiss, rushed to the beach, where the boat was ready to sail. He arrived with Anderson, but Arinthal warned them to stay back, threatening to shoot Lirien if they approached. Eryndor was hit in the shoulder, but the workers reacted swiftly, shooting Arinthal's hand and sending his revolver flying into the sea.

The Rift War, the elders called it sparked not by bloodlust or greed, but by love unaligned with politics. By a man who defied tradition for the wrong twin. She was still gripping the edge of the stone balcony when Ryker arrived. She didn’t hear his boots first — she felt the air shift. The scent of smoke. Metal. Earth. Then his voice, hoarse and careful: “Trix.” She turned slowly. He looked like a man half-unmade — gaunt, burned in places, shoulder bandaged beneath his armor. His hair was longer. His eyes were the same.

she hissed, scrambling up before anyone could laugh. A hand appeared in her vision. Strong, long-fingered, a silver ring glinting faintly. She batted it away, muttering, “I’ve got it.” When she finally looked up, the words died in her throat. Tall. Broad-shouldered. Uniform jacket open, tie undone like rules were beneath him. Raven-black hair, messy but deliberate, and eyes… gods, his eyes. Black like obsidian but not flat—depthless, with shards of light caught inside, sparks that promised fire or ruin depending on where he aimed them.

Outside, the ward breathed, humming steady and hard and alive. At the edge of Silverveil’s woods, Ironclaw retreated with wounded pride and borrowed monsters. In the deeper dark, something old and hungry howled once, furious, and went quiet—blinded, blocked, shut out. Inside the salt circle, in a living room that smelled like blood and sage and love, Charlotte Hale blinked her star-spark eyes, sighed, and finally decided sleep was acceptable. Silverveil entered its after.

Ayla picked it up, blew the dust covering it, and opened it. Some pages were filled with drawings and images, while others were blank. On one of the pages, the images started to move, like they had a life of their own, and they revealed the story of the first Avatar of Inoss. Ayla was sure she was holding in her hands the forgotten book. She put it in her bag, together with a little parchment written in a language she didn’t recognize. She had the feeling it was something important. Hudde made it to the door and leaned against the doorframe. “I have never seen armor like these in all my life. Whoever made them was a master. He combined magical ore with dragon scales.”

All of these books must have come with the house. My fingers stop on a copper bookend, and a rush of warmth tingles down my arm into my fingertips. I pull them back with a hiss, clutching them against my chest as they throb. Three fingerprint-sized indents glisten on the bookend, now slightly warped from my touch. Copper and I are not friends. I much prefer iron. Silver is great to work with, seeing as I don’t have to worry about the side effects since I don’t have a wolf. But copper is–

the guy chuckled then sniffed releasing me from his hold “I’m not on something, I’m mad that you filthy rich piece of shit just bounces in this area to my ex-girlfriend’s home. You want to show off you have money? Huh?” he pushed me. My heart started to beat as an unusual feeling of tingling sensation on my arms started. I felt my arms sweat. No one has actually ever provoked me the way this guy was doing at the moment, not at home, not at school. No one has ever pushed me.