Michael Vey 9 Novels & Stories

Michael called me and said, "I got the magical alarm, who did you kill, Drax?" I replied, "Rogues," and he said, "Is the blood lust over or do you need me to come down there and suck your cock?" I cursed him, "Fuck off, you fucking fairy, my cock is too good for you." Michael laughed and said, "I am still stationed in Europe for a few more years, so be good." I told him I was good after he had sung to me to calm me down. My instinct is always to go to Michael for anything, even with my blood lust, I killed so many rogues, I was a raging bloodaholic, and I trust him with my life still after all these years. He hug me for fifteen minutes when I came back, and I must say I had missed the fuckin

Michael would not need his help to locate someone within the country, and he probably came to him because this person was beyond his reach. “Yes.” “This is a trivial matter. Hand over the information and I’ll inform my grandfather to look into it right away.” Matthew agreed without hesitation. “Thank you, President Henderson!” Matthew was unexpectedly easy to talk to. Overjoyed, Michael immediately took out Ninth Brother’s information and handed it to the man. “This person is nicknamed Ninth Brother. This is all the information I gathered on him.” “Can I ask what this entails?” Matthew glanced quickly at the information before setting it aside.

Raphael gave him a warning glance. “Let me pass, brother.” “Wait!” Michael whispered fiercely. “Something’s not right. I’m detecting some pretty intricate, hi-tech security measures right at this threshold. Give me a minute. We don’t need anyone getting injured and halting our plans right now.” Michael’s all-powerful status as the Great Protector enabled him unprecedented abilities in the varieties of protection. That meant he could also dismantle all manner of protection as well. He stood silent and still like a statue for a moment. When he finished the sweep, he did not look happy. “All right, ladies, it’s a good thing we didn’t all go barreling in there. This lunatic has trip wires and mo

Rottens were drawing in on Justine and me, and I did all I could to keep them at away, but their quantities were too overwhelming. They are killed by rapid gunfire, and I glance up to see the guy in military fatigues named Michael, as well as the one Ricky calls Billie. They had more powerful weapons than I had, and they quickly dispatched the rottens, opening a route to the bus. Peter sprang off the bus before it came to a complete stop, grabbed Justine by the shoulders, and dragged him towards the yellow tank.

But I woke anyway—to the scent of bergamot and betrayal. Michael stood at the foot of my bed, a silhouette against the Manhattan skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows of the penthouse. The city lights behind him created a halo effect that was grimly appropriate—Michael had always cast himself as the avenging angel in his own narrative, the righteous force bringing judgment to those who defied him. "You forgot," he whispered, his voice carrying that familiar blend of smug satisfaction and menace that had once made boardrooms fall silent, "I taught you how to disable every security system you own."

Chapter 95: The Escape The night rain fell like a whisper, threading silver trails down the city windows, muting the world in a hush of water and wind. Inside the armored transport van, Vincent Maddox sat handcuffed, shackled at the wrists and ankles, his expression blank. His pale eyes flicked to the window, watching droplets race each other down the glass. Rain always meant something was coming. He could feel it in his bones.

“A little extra won’t hurt. We just need him groggy. Disoriented. Enough to make the situation believable.” A small tremble ran through me — excitement or fear, I couldn’t tell. But the truth was… I wanted Owen back. Badly. And Michael’s plan, insane as it was, whispered to the darkest parts of me: This is your chance. Owen rubbed his eyes and rested tiredly on a pillar. Vulnerable. Perfect. “I’ll go,” I whispered. Michael nodded, slipping a tiny vial into my hand. “Use it if you need to,” he whispered. “But first see how far you can get without it.”

One rainy night, in a dark, damp alley in London. Lorenzo blocked our path. His hair was a mess, looking like a vagrant, and in his hand, he gripped a trembling revolver. The black muzzle was pointed straight at Arthur’s chest. "Elena... come with me. He can’t give you the protection you need. Only the laws of the Mafia can keep you safe!" Lorenzo growled, a desperate, dying-animal madness flickering in his eyes. Arthur tried to shield me behind him, but I gently pushed his hand away and walked calmly up to the barrel of Lorenzo’s gun.

The screen flickered to life with grainy footage of 4th street. “Watch,” Elias commanded. “The truck doesn’t have license plates. The driver’s face is obscured. But look at the man standing in the doorway of the alley right after the impact. He’s not helping. He’s watching.” Regina gasped as the grainy figure on the screen moved. Even in the low resolution of 2009, the posture was unmistakable. It was Raymond. “My Uncle,” Michael breathed, his bitterness turning into a cold, hard resolve. “He didn’t just architect it. He was there to make sure the blood was spilled.”

The locks clicked the instant the door shut. I grabbed the handle. It wouldn’t open. Draven slid into the driver’s seat, glancing at me in the mirror with a crooked smile. “Told you we’d leave one way or another.” Kai settled into the passenger seat. Without looking back, he said, “Drive.” The engine roared, and the car pulled away, carrying me farther from the only life I’d ever known. #### The city slipped past my window — familiar streets, traffic lights, apartment buildings, people walking home from work. Everything looked painfully normal. How could the world keep moving like nothing happened? How could strangers laugh while mine had fallen apart?