Kane Chronicles Walt Novels & Stories

"He’s going to run his heart rate into a danger zone before he even clears the building." "Let him run himself into a deficit," Kane rumbled, his voice lacking even a trace of sympathy. He stepped down from the presentation platform, his movements fluid and massive. The intense studio lights caught the silver Vanguard crest on his chest, making the metal gleam like a freshly forged blade. He didn't look at the production staff who were nervously avoiding his gaze; he looked down at his personal wristband, where a steady, rapid-fire cascade of high-priority message alerts was already scrolling across the small interface. "The network just finalized the broadcast data. The western franchise

“I understand. Thank you for doing this… it means a lot to Ron.” I nodded again, unsure what to say. My heart was still racing, half from the car ride, half from the thought of Ronan Hale waiting somewhere out there to torture me. “You know,” Walt continued, his eyes on the road, “he missed two years. He attended classes online, but he still struggles with some courses.” I bit my lip, my stomach twisting. Of course he is. It’s Ronan Hale. Annoying,… and somehow

* *It's more than charisma and you know it. Zoey didn't answer, which told me everything. Kane stood suddenly, moving with a fluid grace that reminded me of Killian—but different. Where Killian's power was a mountain, solid and unmovable, Kane's was water, smooth and deceptively deep. He walked around behind my chair. I tensed, my fingers gripping the armrests. "You're very tense, Olivia," he observed, his voice coming from just behind my left ear. "Your shoulders are up by your ears. Your breathing is shallow. That's not good for you."