My S Class Hunter Novels & Stories

“A hunter has five classification. A healer, tanker, fighter, assassin, and a mage type hunter. Surely, you know what is the difference of those classifications. A mage type has its own subdivisions. A fire type, water type, ice type, and earth type. In order to know your classification as a hunter we need to know your skills. A hunter is ranked by their magical energy. A hunter’s magical energy can be evaluated by five different grades and that is grade 1 to 5, which is 1st grade is the highest and 5th grade as the lowest. Of course, the first graders get a lot of privileges because they are the ones who are sent to a much more dangerous and risky gates. Well, you’ll know the rest when you

A brilliant, burning red light erupted over the village, a beacon for every hunter within fifty miles. "He signaled them," Elara roared, her knuckles turning a bloodless white as she wrenched the wheel. "The hunt is on, little wolf," Abram said, his voice dropping into that low, dangerous purr even as his body failed him. He pulled the hammer back on his revolver. "Let's see if they can spend that billion in hell." The black SUVs surged forward, the sound of their high-performance engines drowning out the wind. The first spray of machine-gun fire shattered the truck’s rear window, showering them in a wave of glass.

I take a step, focusing on getting to the pack house where my fate will be decided, when I feel someone cock a gun behind me. “Halt!” My heart flips. That voice. It isn’t the first I was expecting to hear. A thick lump gathers in my throat, and my hands raise above my head as he commanded. I close my eyes as his footsteps begin to echo behind me, making my pulse race erratically. He stands before me, and I raise my head and meet his smoky green eyes. Hunter. The son of Alpha Moon’s third Luna. The strong warrior and biker who handles the pack’s security affairs.

“Let’s go now, please. I have an early morning class.” Hunter’s sharp eyes softened just a little as he nodded. He led the way out of the house, and I followed in silence. Hunter’s car was parked at the entrance—a sleek, obsidian-black Rolls-Royce Cullinan. Its polished surface gleamed under the morning light like a mirror, and the custom chrome detailing caught every eye. The interior was just as extravagant—soft black leather seats, gold accents, and a subtle, clean scent of leather and cedarwood. It was more a statement of power than just a car.

My phone buzzed with a text from Uncle Mateo: "Stay put. Hunters outside. Not just Maison's unit." My stomach clenched. Hunters outside usually meant one thing—someone had picked up a scent they weren't supposed to. I moved to the window and carefully peered through the blinds. Sure enough, three black SUVs had pulled up alongside the diner. Men in tactical gear emerged, their movements precise and coordinated. They weren't carrying visible weapons—they never did in public—but I knew what was concealed beneath their jackets. Silver-tipped ammunition, wolfsbane grenades, and restraints designed to hold even the strongest Alpha.

Everyone was dead, but me. Turning back, I finally put a face to the voice. Her skin was covered in freckles and her hair was a wild brown, like she had stuck her finger in a socket. She was carrying a gun in her hands, but what stood out to me was her outfit. I’d seen it once before, in school. It was the Hunter’s uniform. The patch on her arm confirming it. Hunter’s were mercenaries for hire. Killers for hire, really. The non-magical in the supernatural world. They once were on a death march against all supernaturals, but now they were just raised on how to kill them and were sold to the highest bidder.

This tent is smaller, and it’s just for the two of us. “How did you know where he would be?” Kaely asks. “I don’t know,” I say. And now that we’re here, I really don’t want to waste time talking about the hunt. We’re still naked from our shift. I’m running my hands all over him, and he’s already hard, no doubt helped along by the exertion of hunting and killing a Moon Caster. Still, he stops me. He holds me away at arm’s length. “You didn’t follow the scent,” he says, his eyes narrowed. “The scent turned to the side, but you went straight on.”

Yeah, that was possible. “No. Freaking. Way.” He walked around the car slowly, almost reverently, mouth hanging open. “This is… this is actually a Mercedes-Mayback S-Class. I was a bit sceptical when Aisha showed me the photos she took…” I shifted Bandit’s carrier to my other hand, trying my hardest not to roll my eyes. “I think so, yeah.” Jamal’s head snapped toward me so fast I thought he might get whiplash. “You think so?!”

I reply as I keep my eyes trained on the road. "¡Sienna! ¡Deténgase! ¡No tienes adónde ir! Mis hombres están en camino para detenerte. Así que detente ahora, o me veré obligado a matarte." Sienna! Stop! You have nowhere to go! My men are on their way to stop you. So stop now, or I'll be forced to kill you. Hunter shouts through the Bluetooth speaker in his car.

We can’t hurt him for that. “Shall we take a walk?” I ask Hunter excitedly. “Wherever you want,” He instantly agrees. We say goodbye to everyone and head towards the glitter in the form of cars. They’re parked in front of the house, a yellow, an orange and a blue one. There wasn’t a less attention-grabbing colour to choose from? “Ours is the yellow one,” informs Hunter. Great. Did it have to be the flashiest and a convertible? “What is it?” He looks at me quizzically.