Life Of A Mercenary Novels & Stories

" I caught the bewildered looks from the Harris family as I fished out my new ID from my pocket. "Whitney Shaw?" James uttered the name he saw. "You've changed your name?" "Exactly. I'm not Emma. I'm Whitney. Five years back, I got into a car crash. When I came to, I was trapped in Emma's body." "I watched her suffer at your hands, especially yours," I added, glaring at Chester with an icy stare. "You're the nastiest kid I've ever met." Chester flinched. I did not care to comfort him and pressed on. "For two years, I endured. Then one day, Emma whispered to me, 'Whitney, I can't take it anymore. Take over for me, will you? Look after them for three years?'

An unscrupulous company discharges toxic wastewater into the river, causing my whole family to be poisoned because we rely on that river for survival. Everyone in my family, including my aunts and uncles, lives in the same village. We're all waiting for an urgent antidote delivery to save our lives. My boyfriend is Harrison Somers, and his company is the only one with the antidote. So, I ask him for it. He agrees to come but doesn't show up after a long time. Ultimately, my family members die after being tormented by the toxic wastewater because they don't have the antidote. Meanwhile, Harrison shows up at the hospital with his childhood sweetheart because she accidentally sliced her fin

My twin brother Sebastion, Lola, who is the herbalist, and Merrick, a Mercenary, sat scattered around the table. "Can you tell me about one of your assassin missions?" He was practically pawing at me, begging to tell him something. "Listen kid, your lucky you didn't live a life like mine. Why don't you try enjoying yours while you still have it." I growled. Pouting he sat down next to Merrick. Merrick laughed at him, patting him on the back. He was an old mercenary. Normally smelt of stale alcohol and tobacco. White wispy hair that was slicked back. Five o 'clock shadow, pale blue eyes. Always wore his white button down shirt unbuttoned at the top and revealing gash marks down his chest. He

He looks in his mid-thirties, like Riggs. "My name is Ah Puch or Yum Cimil. Originally, anyway. Nowadays, I go by Jericho or Jericó." His eyes narrow on me. "What do you want?" "Your mother tried to shield you from her life as an assassin, and yet you became a Death Kings mercenary. You had so much potential, but this is the path you chose. I can respect that you chose this path for love and preservation." "You don't know anything about me," I snarl. "Now…What. Do. You. Want," I grind out. There is no way he should know so much about me. It's not public knowledge that the Death Kings are mercenaries.

His name would be forever written in the book of honour and for hundreds of years, he would be remembered as the one who led the Lightbearers to the eternal Olympus of glory. Martin had been a mercenary all his life. He earned a living by doing the bidding of various crime bosses and eliminating unwanted people. Until one day, THEY found him. An organisation that changed Martin‘s life. Changed his narrow worldview by revealing incredible secrets and giving his meaningless life a purpose. He became an executioner who changed history and felt elated by the honour bestowed upon him. For fifteen years Martin had been loyal to this organisation and at last, his boundless devotion and blind loyalt

Now, after forcing him to take her into the dark heart of Vancouver's lower East Side and telling a gut-wrenching story of pain and loss, she was acting like life couldn't be better. In the space of an hour she'd turned his entire world and everything he assumed upside down. Him. A man that used to kill for money, a fact she would never learn, despite being so generous with her own life story. After leaving the military he became a hired gun in the middle East, telling himself he was working on the side of good. Until the body count became too high to stomach, even for him. He'd started his security company with the nearly two decades of mercenary money and skills he'd picked up overseas.

This mission will yield forth bountiful cash which will aid us expand. “Take your seat guys. You all know why we're here today, right?” I said looking at the face of every one of them. We were all in our early twenties, yet due to the fact we were dishonorable discharged from the army for not obeying a direct order to destroy an entire village, we've bounded up to fight against terrorism as a mercenary group. “Tsk! They can't handle their own mess. Bornu has become a place of war, rather than of peace.” Risky said. He's of average height, lean and a skilled gunfighter.

He only became a mercenary when a chieftain needed his help, and the people of this clan called him the Mercenary of the West because he came from the vast Anglo-Saxon land. In all his years of being a mercenary, he witnessed many things about wars, the intricate mindsets of the people he worked with, tactical strategies, and rivalry. For him, it could have been understandable if its between clans or kingdoms. But what he sees in the present time is a rivalry between the most unlikely pair, siblings. One who has a sure route to the kingly future. While the other has a secured and treasured life. One could be pretentiously naive, and the other is saliently envious. Their estrangement from eac

Almost everything about him popped up. Single, runs successful businesses, highly sought after, seen out with models, beautiful women, loves football games, plays hockey, and works out. At his young age, he’s become one of the youngest billionaires, and it seems like he’s done it all on his own. If he’s so rich, why does he want to take what’s mine? My father, Andres, adopted me when I was only five years old. My parents died in a car accident, and I was left alone, begging for food in restaurants, even scraps, just to fill my little belly. I’m more than grateful to Mr. Andres for adopting me, educating me, and putting me in charge of his businesses. I can’t let some upstart ruin all of this

Fred asked. ‘Better than before.’ Mark wrote down. “That’s great.” Fred said. Mark, an ex-mercenary, he got posted to the army and served for a while before being released dishonourably and thrown into jail for disobeying a direct command. Upon release, he got a job by political aspirants as a mercenary in taking down their rivals. He had completed lots of jobs and was paid well but got tired of killing people for a living. Fortunately, he came across Fred, who was hiring at that time, and he talked to him. They worked something out, and Mark was put through a series of test to test his loyalty, to which he passed. Mark had become a main part of the team ever since then and had enough experi