Life Of A Mercenary Mga Nobela at Kwento

In a hushed voice, I try to draw him out. “Hi,” I say. “Martell, right?” He shakes his head. “That’s not my name.” “What?” I’m startled. “Isn’t that how you introduced yourself back at the training in Santa Cruz?” “Martell is my mercenary name,” he says in a flat, sad tone. “So no one could trace me back to my original pack. I’ve killed, kidnapped, and betrayed under that name. I don’t want to be that anymore.” “So what’s your real name?” I ask gently.

I ditched the pickaxe, looking for anything else to use, but in my frenzy, I stumbled and ended up on the floor. The footsteps behind me were getting louder. A cold sweat drenched my back as I curled up, cornered and powerless. The pitch-black cellar had me spouting anything that came to mind, a last-ditch plea. "Please, mister, have mercy! I can pay you—ten, twenty thousand dollars. Just let me go, and I'll owe you big time, even in my next life!" "You've been slaving away for twenty years already, isn't that enough? You want to keep it up in your next life too?"

Marco had told her a lot abort Double S—Dante had said it once too—but never, in her wildest dreams, had she imagined her brother could be the infamous figure causing such chaos. “You’ve been causing all this trouble? Stealing from people? Hurting them?” she asked, her eyes narrowing in disbelief. Salvatore shrugged, unfazed. “I’m a mercenary, Alessia. What did you expect? It’s my job.” Her glare hardened. “It’s not just a job, Mr.! You’ve been taking things that don’t belong to you. You’ve been ruining lives! Why can’t you just… stop?”

He betrayed me and even though he knew how dangerous I was, he still had the effrontery to visit my lair. The uproar of my fellow members jolted me back to reality. "Everyone! Cheers to the Lord of the house, Zeus!" I chuckled as my group of six happily clapped their glasses of beers against each other. This is what one gets when you choose to have your lair be a bar in disguise. The mornings up to the early nights were for humans while the deep nights were for us werewolves. We were called the Hunter Mercenaries, a group of skilled werewolf mercenaries led by me. Some of us here were wanted and some were new recruits to replace our fallen. Simon for starters. There he was, his young stature

Blood trickled slowly down the side and on to the ground that he laid upon. Satisfied that he was unconscious, I directed my attention towards Nathaniel and Jeremiah. So far one of the other Mercenaries had been slain. He laid face down on the ground in a puddle of his own blood. His limps had been splayed all over the place. Almost like he was a doll that had been tossed to the side by its owner. A lifeless rag doll. I wondered if he had family. Would they be wondering where he was tonight? Or maybe they where waiting for him to go home. Were they sitting around the table now, wondering how he was doing? Would they be praying he would come home safely? I almost felt bad for his death, but h

He found work as a mercenary, which exposed him to the worst humanity had to offer. Gresso blew out his breath. Thinking about everything he and Trojan went through just to survive made him want to curl up in a ball in a dark corner, so he didn't indulge that pastime too often. Like all women, Yrah had a specific way of screwing with his mind, but she was different. She made him want to reflect on his previous actions and question if he'd done the best thing. Not the right or correct thing, but the best where he came out on top with the dough and the glory. Gresso almost started when he felt a tap on his shoulder. That's when he realized his boys had been trying to get his attention for a wh

“Keep playing the game at the level you’ve been fighting—chasing after criminals, exposing corrupt officials, thinking you’re making a difference. Or…” He stepped closer. “You go after the real enemy.” Lena forced herself to remain still, to keep her voice calm, calculated. “And let me guess—you just happen to have a way in.” Mercer smirked. “You know me so well.” Jessica shifted uneasily. “This… this doesn’t make sense. Why would you help us?” “Because I like being alive,” Mercer replied simply. “And the way I see it, if I stay on my current path? I don’t stay that way for long.”

He thinks he’s just another game, another conquest, another name on a long list of men I’ve used and discarded. He’s not. He’s entirely different. Everyone else? They came willingly. Most of them made the first move, throwing themselves at me like I was something worth chasing. It was never difficult, never a challenge. They saw me, knew my name, knew my family, and they wanted in. They didn’t give a fuck about me. They wanted the lifestyle, the power, the reputation that came with being the guy who fucked the Don’s son. Mercer isn’t like them.

I promise you that I'll make your lives a living hell. Dad then barked his orders to the bodyguards, who were standing nearby, "Take both of them to The Golden Triangle. Don't kill them. I want them to be alive to experience all the pain and suffering that we're going to inflict upon them." "No!" Bianca screamed hopelessly. A sudden burst of strength surged through her, and she was able to somehow free herself from the bodyguard's restraints. "Let me go! I don't want to go there. I don't want to!"

He stays on top of her for a while before pulling out of her and as soon as he gets off, Vivian curses him under her breath and heads towards the door but before she could get there, Clement halts her. Clement "Vivian! Vivian" 😒 Sir? Clement " Summon asset 1 to my office. Vivian" As you wish sir. After that, Vivian walks out of the office and shortly after her departure an odd looking guy in a body armour enters the office. The guy's name Douglas okene. He's a mercenary for hire and he sometimes carries assassinations to earn an extra buck. Douglas is a ruthless individual with little or no regard for human life,