Magnus Lacrontte Novels & Stories

The prince of the rouges growled. Drake was panting, gasping for air. He closes his eyes, feeling the presence of the beating heart. As he opened his eyes, it was blood red. He wore the devil's eye. It was cold, dark, mysterious, and dangerous. The prince of the rouges steps backward, trembling. He didn't try to struggle off the chain; he just wore his dangerous lopsided grin.

Temujin tugged and the weapon flew back to him. Meanwhile, Magnar had continued his slide all the way to the end of the ring and, without decreasing speed, hurtled up the wall and then kicked off, executing a back flip that dropped him right in front of Temujin. He landed on one foot with surprising grace, bringing down his two swords with him. Fortunately, Temujin was ready and blocked both sword chops with his scythe and chain, which were still red-hot from all the flames. Magnar kicked off again and slid backwards. If his boot blades weren’t visible, it would seem as though he was levitating on ice. He may be huge but he wasn’t slow at all. On his mother element, he was as light-footed a

Then he brutally snapped his left arm. The horrifying sound of bones cracking filled the room. He dropped to the ground while the color drained from his face. He looked up at Frederic, his eyes red. “Now, can I pursue my love for Ifrit?” Frederic was stunned. Freya curled up and cried. Ever since Magnus was three years old, his family had been educating him and preparing him to take up the reins of the family business. He was destined to succeed the family, but he had given it all away just like that.

“You speak very confidently for a man who is supposed to be recovering from a serious injury.” Jake’s body stiffened. “Your Majesty,” he said quickly. “I am only telling my pack the truth. This is an internal matter between the Crescent Moon Pack and a traitor.” Magnus slowly walked closer to the stage. “Is that what you believe?” Jake swallowed hard. This was not what he had expected. Magnus continued without a care in the world, “Because from where I am standing, the story you are telling does not match what I see.” Jake’s grip tightened around the microphone.

I went in front of him. “How come you knew Magnus? And why did he seem trembling when he saw you?” I asked him. He fixed his eyeglass and brush his hair using his hand. He looks hot doing that thing. “We have a past, a horrible past,” he answered and I sat down on the chair in front of him. “What kind of past? Elaborate it, Giovanni,” I said to him because I am eager to know it. “Well, Magnus is one of my employees before in the Netherlands. He is part of my board of members and using his position in my company, he stole the company’s money and he poured it all into the casino,” he said and my eyes widened.

Lars flinched by it and stared at Len incredulously from the mirror. "Never do this again to me," Len said, pouting. "If you want me to do something, just say it as it is. Don't suddenly put me in this kind of situation." "Sorry," Lars said between nervous chuckles. "I just don't want you to talk me out of it, you know? That Duncan guy is dangerous and if Magnus is associated in any way with him, that means Mom and us could be roped in too by extension. I just want to make sure he's dealt with and he only comes on this big operation every 13th."

He no longer sounded like a man saying goodbye. He sounded like a teacher giving one final lesson. "If you are searching for my grandson..." "...stop." Samuel frowned. "What?" Magnus smiled knowingly. "Because the moment you begin searching for people..." "...you stop searching for principles." Leon lowered his head. "I failed that lesson." Magnus picked up a small stone from the ground outside the lighthouse. He held it before the camera. "This stone has no name." "No title." "No family." "And yet..." "...it still belongs to the shore."

And Isla Montgomery, the ice queen, survivor, untouchable had to decide whether to gamble her future on the man who had once broken her. The storm had been building for weeks. Lucian Blackwell had enemies, some he had created through sheer force of will, others through the inevitability of success. But this one was different. Magnus Veyron, a French tycoon with a reputation as a vulture in bespoke suits, had been circling Isla’s company for months, waiting for the slightest crack. Where Leo's malice had always felt personal, Magnus was colder, sharper, the kind of man who made ruin look like art.