Milo Thatch Novels & Stories

Down below, Nova's voice slipped into the mindlink — again, not private. Nova: Someone come tackle me. I promise I won't fight back. Ash: I'm tied, Nova. Rael: Can he be any more obsessed? Nova: Milo. Rip your training suit. I'll get you a new one. Milo tore his sleeve open, threads snapping. The look on his face said it all — why didn't I think of that first? Nova: Grab the knife. Tuck it into your pant. He did, looking unexpectedly fierce now, as if he'd planned it all along.

Wait, I must have heard her wrong. I turn my head back to the mirror. Milo? The mirror shows Milo in the weight room with other warriors and pack guards working out. His eyes are intense with concentration as he bench presses almost five hundred pounds. He is dripping in sweat with no shirt on. His shorts are low on his hips, with his tattooed torso on full display. When he finishes his set, he sits up and grins at someone with that goofy lopsided smile he gets when he jokes around. His gray eyes sparkle as he says something, but there’s no sound to the image.

“Then talk. For once, Milo, just talk to me as a man. Not a soldier.” Milo stayed standing for a moment, torn between instinct and emotion. Then sat across from me, almost like a son summoned to explain a hidden wound. He exhaled deeply. “My birth name is Mi Lo Jin. Son of Jong Ping Jin, Korean arms financier. Ruthless. Unforgiving. He trafficked power like currency. His reach extended into Lorenzo’s camp before Lorenzo even had a name.” My eyes narrowed. “And you disowned him?” Milo nodded. “He killed my mother for giving me a conscience. I left Korea. Found refuge with Mr. Martinez, a tech genius who owed my mother a favor. He became my real father. Trained me. Gave me a second life.”

Lately, that someone was usually him. He wasn’t supposed to be here. Not really. The Blackmoor Vultures hadn’t even wanted him. He’d been drafted as a backup headline when they couldn’t seal their golden deal with Noah Rivers, Crestwick’s new rising star. Milo was supposed to be a legacy name, the son of a former Vultures goalie who hadn't been in his life since he was six. The press releases had spun it as destiny. What a joke. He wasn’t a bruiser, not flashy or loud or mean enough to survive on a team like this. He played clean. Fast. Surgical. Or… he used to. Before he learned that standing out only made the hits harder, the slurs louder.

This chick was wife number two—the first one croaked, leaving behind a 22-year-old daughter who's now stuck with step-mommy dearest. But fuck it, I saw an opportunity, and I wasn't about to let it slip through my fingers. I decided right then and there that I was gonna get my hands on both the MILF and the stepdaughter. If I played my cards right, I could turn them into my own personal fucking ATM. I was gonna milk them dry, and they wouldn't even know what hit 'em.

Homer nodded and responded, “It's him. He called me this morning and asked me to hand over Hector. I refused. Not long after the call, I received bad news from my company’s secretary. Milo, tell me what I should do. You have a wide network of connections in Flower City. Help me find out what the bosses and big figures in Flower City think of this. Also, help me contact Philip and tell him that I want to meet him. There’s no lasting feud, only eternal friends.” Homer had no other choice. The opponent’s killing moves were too fierce and accurate. He was now an eagle with broken wings, unable to fly. Milo’s face darkened. He thought about it and said, “Okay, I'll do it right away.” After that,

Then, deep inside, with so much anger and dismay, she swore: "I will make all of you pay for what you'll did to me. You all threw me out of your lives when I needed you'll all the most. But don't you worry Killian, I will prove both you and my parents wrong. I will show you all that I'm not a disgrace. I am Mila Throndsen and I won't back down till I win...

The three of them even celebrated that with his first cruise down the coastal road while Maeve sat behind Angela. "Good afternoon, my little beans," Milo grinned, earning an elbow hook from Maeve. His smile was replaced with a painful frown as he touched his chest, bending forward and groaning in pain. "F*ck that hurts! What are you? A Wonder Woman. I hate your strength." He grumbled walking after them while Maeve grinned. Milo was in the law department. Ever since their first meeting, Milo thinks she and Meave were his little beans in need of his protection.

That woman loves putting herself in dangerous situations, doesn't she? “Who does this driver think he is?” “He's Milo Gonzales. He used to be with one of the top Formula 1 teams in the country, but he left after his contract expired. He has a clean record and very impressive stats, and there were a lot of offers for him, but he chose our team eventually.” Milo…. That name stopped me in my tracks and a feeling of dread crept up my spine. “I need to see a picture.” I barked. After a few taps on his screen, Tucker handed his tablet back to me.

"I wouldn’t call it a setback, because we have not established a baseline for progress, but it helps us understand the severity of his condition.” Bronx takes his eyepatch off, exposing the long scar underneath. He sets it down and rubs his hands over his face. Something he only does when he’s beyond frustrated. He puts the eyepatch on before he continues. “Milo prefers to avoid conflict. Did he do what he had to do as part of our special ops unit? Yeah, but he’s not a natural sniper or weapons expert like Marco, Tyree, or Arnie. He goes through the motions with hand to hand combat and lets Reggie, James, and Archie be the experts. If you need to find a needle in a field of haystacks, Milo’s