Mass Effect Garrus Vakarian Novels & Stories

I stormed out of the elevator, heading straight toward the lab. The sound of glass shattering to the floor and metal being thrown around became louder, the closer I got to the lab. I saw them through the glass, my heart skipping a beat. Gunn was fighting Vissarian. I ran over to the them, the glass doors opening with a hiss. I aimed my gun at Vissarian's head. "Enough," I uttered in a loud and clear voice. Vissarian landed one last blow to Gunn's abdoment before curiously turning around. Gunn staggered back, his back hitting into a glass tank.

A long scar ran from below his right ear all the way down to his jaw. His eyes were pale brown and they swept the room once before landing on me. He looked at Mira. "Out," he said. Mira gathered the empty cup from the tray without rushing, which told me she was either very brave or very used to him, and slipped past him through the door. The man stepped inside. Just stood with his arms crossed and his pale eyes studying me. "I'm Darius Kane," he said. "Beta of Obsidian Keep and Alpha Zayden."

He didn't want those gentle, freckled hands lifting a burden meant for vanguard muscle. "Kiarra," Valarian’s deep baritone rumbled across the kitchen, rough and commanding, yet laced with that careful, hesitant edge he always used specifically with her. "Leave that. It’s too heavy for you. I’ll have one of the guard recruits move it when the watch shifts." Kiarra didn't back away from the crate. Instead, she turned her head, her earthy brown eyes locking directly onto his across the room. The gold flecks in her irises danced brilliantly in the firelight.

To them we were just shadows. We reached the central storage bay. It was a massive hangar. In the center sat a device. It looked like a missile without fins. It was silver and sleek. It was hooked up to a series of tanks filled with green gas. And standing next to it was Garrett Vance. He was wearing a hazmat suit with the helmet off. He was typing on a keypad attached to the missile. He was surrounded by six Reapers. These were the elite. They wore black armor and held heavy energy weapons.

Mama Zuri closed her eyes, clutching her cane as if preparing for the end. "The military," a man whispered from the shadows of the terraced living quarters. "The sweepers tracked them back from the warehouse. They found the Warren." "Quiet!" Baraka ordered, his voice a low, resonant boom that instantly commanded obedience. He didn't hesitate. The violet sparks of the Star-Code ignited across his knuckles, racing up his forearms as he sprinted toward the massive iron gate. Jabari was right behind him, his skin instantaneously crystallizing into jagged, reflective obsidian armor. Musa flanked them on the left, his deep blue eyes glowing as he drew the ambient moisture in the air into two local

The atmosphere shifted immediately. Heavy. Tense. Dangerous. The newcomer was massive. Well over six feet tall. Broad shoulders. Dark hair. Numerous scars crossed his arms and neck. Each one a story of violence survived. His amber eyes swept across the camp before settling on Aria. There was no fear in them. No admiration. Only challenge. Draven’s expression darkened. “I know him.” Aria glanced sideways. “Who is he?” “Alpha Varek.” Several nearby warriors visibly stiffened.

Gabel spoke ”It seems we had a traitor all along… our enemy has been bought to us" My eyes widened at the title Alpha that Gabel spoke and the hairs on the back of my neck shot up, my eyes went to one of the men who came up next to Gabel and it was Layton... Layton! My heart dropped through my body and into the ground, my breathing hitched as I took in the man before me who had looked at Zara and frowned, then looked to me, he eyed me up and down, trying to figure out who this warrior was that was wearing their armor. “That woman is Zara Maven” his voice boomed deep through his lungs his strong aura radiated around him. His big chest rising and falling with each deep angry breath he took “wh

If I could keep some of them busy, she might find another way. I ran harder. The tunnel opened into a chamber where the roof had collapsed years ago and roots hung like rag curtains. My boots slapped wet stones. A man stepped into the light with the Council insignia and a face I recognized. Captain Garran, his jaw set in a line I hated. He looked at me and did not flinch because he had learned to split a man from his fear. “Lucian,” he said. His voice had the smallness of a man who knows he will obey. “Stand down. Theron wants names. Stand down.”

I bare my teeth and rise. I swing the door open hard enough to rattle the hinges, ready to break whoever’s on the other side in half. I’m met with him grinning like the bastard he is, leaning a shoulder against the frame, casual, coming to borrow sugar and not report on a potential realm collapse. “Disturbing you, am I?” Zarek drawls, voice syrup-thick and laced with amusement. He’s always been too casual with death at his back. He’s massive, taller than me, broader too, and sculpted by war itself. Black tactical gear clings to him as a second skin, plates of matte armor laced with runes pulsing dull red.

Garrick never gave his soldiers mercy—or minds. The bond pulsed. A spark under my skin. Elara. I pushed it down. She was safe in the stronghold; Ronin would have her guarded. I had to believe that. Another scent cut through the chaos. Familiar. Old. Garrick. I turned toward the treeline and saw him step out of the haze—massive, broad, eyes like a storm over dark water. He hadn’t aged a day, the bastard. His smirk was the same too: cold and amused, as if the slaughter around us were a private joke.