Klance Ship Novels & Stories

"Their leader... Don Starllion!." A/N: Yay and that's a wrap for this chapter. I just felt I needed to do a Lance POV chapter, oh well so he just found out his Mom never left town!. Do you really think the vipers are not who people think they are?, And also Kara's Mom what do you think is her own story?. Kindly rate•comment•share. My ship name for them is #KARANCE. What's yours?.

Did this make him decide if he was ready to kill Connor? I forced my gaze to the landscape ahead. I really wanted to not be surprised anymore, and yet I was still easily capable. "Goddess's hell," I breathed, just as Kael said, "Goddess above…" In our defense, our shock was warranted, because not too far in the distance was the ocean shore, where a massive ship was docked. It was twice as large as the Galiot, and maybe because it was carrying an uncountable amount of cars rolling out of it via plank.

I stopped the car and looked at her. "Out," I said. "This isn't a house," Norah said. "It's mine," I said. I led her inside. The room had no windows. There were computer screens on the walls and a bed in the back. Elias was sitting at a table with a laptop. He looked at me. "The Kranes hit the south docks," Elias said. "The shipment?" I asked. "Burned," Elias said. "They left a message." He showed me a photo on his screen.

Clyde growls, his voice a subterranean vibration that makes the pebbles around the runner's fingers rattle. "The... the lower shipyards are already dark, Alpha," the runner stammers, his face pressed so hard into the mud his words are wet and muffled. "The Western captains... they didn't wait for your column to reach the shelf. When Malakai’s flagship returned empty, they didn't prepare the automated docks for a siege. They initialized the scorch-protocols." My heart skips a beat. I step past the line of iron shields, ignoring the warning growl that clicks in Clyde’s throat as I move to the front.

“Lady Ever—” “No names.” Becky lifted a hand without slowing. “Not mine. Not yours. Not tonight.” The man bowed his head. “As you wish.” “Is the ship ready?” “Aye.” He jerked his chin toward the vessel moored at the far end of the dock. It was a weather-beaten cargo ship, hull patched, sails rolled, the Eastwind insignia freshly painted over with a darker, unfamiliar crest. “False flag, false registry, false manifests. No one’ll track where she’s goin’.”

Or the staff. Liam felt a chill that had nothing to do with the rain. The staff? "Can you do it?" Varga pressed. "Fifty million dollars. Half upfront." Cane looked at the rain-slicked pavement as if he was in deep thought. What he was thinking about was how much fifty million dollars would help him, it was enough to get somethings done. "I can do it," Cane said. "But I need time. A week." "Three days," Varga countered. "We have a vessel leaving on Sunday night. The Iron Lady. Dock 4, Queens."

They realized that the bronze tree had not just given them shelter—it had given them a logistics line. Julian and Elias began preparing the large blue ship, hauling the remaining iron chains from the type-set pier and clearing the lead dust from the windlass. The blue vessel, with its wooden stars and patched sails, looked massive and clumsy beside the elegant, white geometric precision of the origami fleet that surrounded it, but it was the only hull we had that could carry human bone.

A single, isolated vector in the Celtic Sea—one of our primary transit corridors—turned a flat, warning crimson. "It's the Vane Vanguard," Kincaid said, leaning over my shoulder, his professional calm cracking as he read the telemetry. "One-hundred and eighty thousand tons of containerized cargo en route from Rotterdam to Halifax. She’s carrying Vane Global's largest early-quarter shipment of high-value industrial manufacturing components." The crimson line representing the ship's path was bending. The vessel was executing a hard, automated turn to the south, steering directly toward a restricted, French-controlled military transit corridor. This was a sharp, deliberate course deviation, ent

A large ship, anchored far off in the distance, its dark silhouette barely visible in the hot afternoon. "That's the ship," Louise said. "The shipment was supposed to be on board." "And now?" Luan asked. "Now it's gone," Louise said quietly. "Everything is gone." Luan's jaw tightened as he heard this "Let's go," he moved his hands signaling them to come along. Louise nodded and led them toward two speedboats that were waiting at the edge of the dock. Luan, Klevis, Louise, Boaz, and two other men climbed into the boats.

Then they turned one last corner, and the path opened. There, nestled between two towers of steel and shadow, was a sleek, midnight-black ship. Its chrome edges glinted beneath the floodlights, elegant and dangerous. A small ramp led up from the dock into a low, angular control deck, its windows tinted like obsidian. “Meet Princella,” Arika announced, her voice different now—almost reverent. “Isn’t she beautiful?” Lila stared, momentarily stunned. “You named your ship?” “I did.” Arika moved forward, fingers trailing the edge of the hull as if greeting an old friend. “After the only thing that ever made sense to me as a kid.”