Mo Ri The Rebel Novels & Stories

Naming felt less like drowning. ‎His lip twitched, almost like a smile, but tighter. “My people. A couple of guys from outside the club I trust. Guy called Taye, he’s owed me a favor since I once bailed him out of a mess with a dealer. He’s clean. No loyalties to Marcus. He’ll help.” ‎ ‎“How many?” ‎ ‎“Enough,” he said. “Not too many. We’re not trying to start a war.” ‎

She had to get out of here, and fast. But just as she was about to make a run for it, she heard a sound behind her. She turned around and saw a group of werewolf rebels standing in the shadows, watching her. "Well, well, well," a woman's voice said, and Karen recognized it as the leader of the rebels. "What have we here?" Karen felt a surge of hope. She had heard about the rebels, and she knew that they were skilled fighters who sought to overthrow the oppressive monarchy and establish a new, more just society.

The whole town had been destroyed by the betrayal, resulting in so much fighting that this delicate fourteen-year-old girl was the only survivor left from the little village on the mountain. The young girl sits hunched over her small wooden desk, devoid of all materials but those she brought with her, as she works with nothing but candle flame to drive away the darkness in the small, dank cabin that smelled of dirt and drying blood. This is where the girl made her name as the messenger of the Covenant.

I snatched it, then stared blankly at the words she had written—notes about rogue safehouses, council meetings, and plans for resistance. “They did work together.” Steph’s whisper sent a violent shiver down my spine. Each clutching our family member’s words, we searched the clutter on the table until the message was abundantly clear. Elaine Rogers and Maren Channer were rebels for a rogue rebellion. I stared at Steph. “Was your mom a rogue?” “No—I mean, no.” Steph’s eyes searched mine frantically. “I don’t know. I—I don’t know if—how—”

Unhappy to see me. Beside him stood River Grimaldi, a mischievous smile curving his lips. His dark blond hair was tied into a man bun, giving him the look of a charming rogue. And I could already guess that he is the lady's favorite in the whole kingdom. And between River and Viggo stood Hunter Olsen. Medium brown hair. Broad shoulders. And that infuriating smirk was already tugging at his mouth. He stepped forward. My body reacted before my mind did. I stepped back.

"When I was drowning in the struggle for power, Karen was always there. She offered me comfort and encouragement. I was grateful for that, yes. But the only one I ever loved was Sera." The moment the words left my mouth, another man burst into the room with a small package. I tore it open, finding a tiny voice recorder inside. I pressed the play button. A familiar voice filled the room, cold and calculating. "Karen's been dead for a long time. So what? Your stupid parents will only believe me. All I have to do is put on a little show, and they'll always side with me. That idiot, Macro? He's no different..." The air was sucked from my lungs. A sharp, icy dread pierced my heart.

Bound. “Come with me willingly,” he said. “Or I rip every memory you have from the ashes.” Kael shifted back into his half-form, blood slicking his jaw. “Touch her and I’ll tear your soul from your spine.” Veyrix barely glanced at him. But the rebel Luna moved again, placing herself between us all. “You want a fight, Veyrix? Try me.” Veyrix’s smile twisted. “Gladly.” He lunged. The two clashed in an explosion of light and shadow—power against power. It shattered the air like glass, sending a shockwave through the clearing. The rebel Luna screamed a spell in a language I didn’t know, and the trees bent away from her voice.

“Plan a rescue assault. Packhouse, tonight. We hit hard, no mercy. I want Julian free, or Vellex burns.” Torren grunted in agreement, his ravaged face grim, shouting out orders as wolves scrambled to sharpen steel and load bullets. Slamming down the receiver, I forced my fingers to calm, the fire of my blood had nothing to do with the burning scent of Silver Veil and everything to do with the fact I still had the power to navigate the dangerously inscrutable waters of my life. I reached for a burner phone and dialed Savire’s number, the man I’d trusted to negotiate a peace to end all wars. Then the line crackled, and his voice slithered through, suave but cautious. “Roland, what’s this about

Rino grits out, command bleeding from every pore of his words. The new me has somehow become triggered by his continuous orders. Regardless of my terror, I always find myself itching to fight back and to go against him. "I only wanted to see Gr-" I begin to quietly argue. "Freya!!" Rino roars. "News travels fast in our world, and just so you know, word has already spread that my traitor wife has returned. Your chances of survival have just become slimmer and depend entirely on me," Rino both states and mocks darkly.