Mike Wheeler Season 1 Novels & Stories

Bubble asked his tone gentle. “Yeah I'm good.” He nodded. “As horrible as it sounds, first one's the worst.” He said, squeezed my shoulder then walked around the other side to climb into the seat Jake had previously occupied. “Everything okay out there? I cant see a thing.” Wheeler questioned, a note of worry in his voice. I hesitated a second before pressing the button on my walkie and answering. “Yeah, he's down. Just getting back to the truck.” “Okay then.”

White said, taking his hand. More than a dozen of them were renowned doctors in Anchorage Base City. After Mike invited them to their seats, Dr. White looked at him and said. "Mr. Mike, I heard that you received this hidden injury when you fought against the White Lotus’ leader?" Dr. White asked, looking at Mike. "Yeah. I was severely injured in that battle," Mike replied. "Mr. Mike, could you please stretch out your hand and let me take your pulse." Mike stretched out his hand and Dr. White began to read his pulse.

"I'll take you on!" Waldo sat on a beach chair, watching Sheldon charging toward him. He sneered. "You want to take me on? Trash! Someone go stab him. Tie him to a stone, and throw him into the sea!" Mike stepped forward. He wore a sinister smile as he swiftly drew a gleaming short dagger from his lower back. He poised to thrust it into Sheldon's chest. In that split second... A large spray of fine sand grains came whistling from a distance, making a dull thud in the air. It showered down on Mike's head, causing him to lose balance instantly. He stumbled forward, ending up face-first in the sand.

Jesse imitated him and Mike exhaled relieved. “What?” Jesse asked. “You didn’t change. You are the same as before. “ “Well.. you look quite different. “ “Really?” “Mhm. “ Jesse said. “I thought you were with the CIA, the big boss thing and everything. What happened?” “Yeah, I…” Mike picked up his cigarettes and took one out. “I quit. “ “You quit? Seriously?” “Yeah. “ Jesse frowned. “I tried to call you, but I never got in touch. “

"If I hadn't come back to this kingdom... if I hadn't dragged us back to this ice... he’d still be alive." Mike’s grip on the wheel tightened. The guilt on my face was a dangerous thing. He knew I was spiraling into a dark place wolves rarely return from. He pulled a sharp U-turn and headed straight for the medical wing where Dr. Daniel Harris worked. After hearing about my outburst and the subsequent collapse, Wesley was deeply troubled. "He's a warrior, but even the strongest steel snaps in the cold," Wesley said, handing a vial of sleeping tonics to Mike. "He needs the darkness of sleep right now. Let's see if the dawn brings any clarity."

“Dont tell anyone.” And he cuts the line. I stare at the laptop in-front of me. The spreadsheet and blocking cursor. Then I push the chair back and stand. Because something has to be wrong. Mike is not the kind of person to ask for help. He would rather the ground opens up and swallows him whole than ask for it. ~~~~~ I spot the motel from a distance before I been park. A few cars are packed outside a few of them are covered in dust. I pull up slowly and kill the engine. Is it there for a while before stepping out, observing my surroundings.

With his werewolf hearing, Mike was able to hear the warrior’s call and made his way out of the office. He saw him pace in front of the staircase, Mike hurried down as he could see that something was definitely wrong with this warrior. “What is going on?” asked Mike as soon as he reached the last step, the warrior paused his pacing and looked at Mike. “Beta Mike, we found alpha’s car.” The warrior told him but to Mike, he was not making any sense. What did he mean they found the alpha’s car, which car was he talking about.?

For a long, impossible second, the only sound was the ragged rush of my own pulse. When the dust settled, Talon emerged first, grinning like a prizefighter, slapping the trunk with his free hand. “She’s down!” he crowed, his voice raw with adrenaline. Jake offered a quick nod of approval, and they began strategizing how to section the beast, talking over each other in a jumble of curse and laughter. But Mike hadn’t moved. He stood frozen, his posture gone slack, the hard lines of his face sagging into something unrecognizable. His hands shook — not just the gentle tremor of age, but a full-on tremble, visible from where I stood.

My voice felt trapped in my throat. ​"She’s not cooking for us again." ​The cold, gravelly decree cut through the back-seat chatter like a blade. ​Mike Weller kept his piercing blue eyes fixed dead ahead on the winding road, his large hands gripping the leather steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white. His golden blonde hair was perfectly styled, and his sharp, arrogant jaw was set in a rigid, unyielding line. He looked completely untouchable, a cruel king reigning over his small sports-car empire.

Butterflies danced an Irish jig inside his stomach as he wateched Xavier and Sierra enter teh warehouse, unarmed. "Check one...testing...testing." He was speaking into his sleeve, where the hidden mic was. He hoped that the reception was good inside the warehouse. "Hear you loud and clear." Sierra nervously replied. Good, at least they had communication! Mack thought to himself as nerves were riding high with anticipation, until he saw a car pull up to the warehouse about twenty minues later. "Does Dwight drive a silver Mazda RX-7?" He asked as he sat up a little to get a better look.