Nanbaka Warden Novels & Stories

Nara said, smiling. Weston nodded smiling a little, “When Andy said that the rogue was an omega and a wounded one at that, I just can’t turn him away. You know how we value everyone, specially omegas, Nara. The situation was very weird but I pushed it out of my mind at the time. Not to mention Andy’s pestering that I had to actually Alpha Command him to make him stop.”

"I don't even know this man. Other than being our master's father. Why do I have to carry his name?" "Shh," Lucille muttered, "Wardens are watching." Sure enough, the wardens, dressed in black leather armor and holding silver-tipped sticks, patrolled the area. A young omega refused to hold her placard, her tail tucked between her legs in fear. A warden stomped forward. "Lift it, or get hit!" She whimpered, shaking her head. Whack! The stick landed on her back. She howled in pain and dropped to the ground. Others quickly raised their placards higher.

Nora's POV I'm standing at the top of the stairs. I can see people coming out of Ken's workspace with pale faces and limp bodies. I don't know them; I'm guessing they are people who have positions in this pack. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to enter Ken's workspace, which was guarded twenty-four hours a day by four warriors with large bodies and frightening faces. I, who go to Ken's workplace every day, shudder whenever I see them. "Keep going; you can do it." Beta's voice is audible to me. Beta is always encouraging to the warriors.

The last line of defense stood arrayed before it. Fifty warriors. Mike's Beta and Gamma at their head. Elite guards who'd sworn oaths to defend their alpha with their lives. Behind them, the mansion's magical wards shimmered in the air, layer upon layer of protective enchantments that had probably cost a fortune and taken weeks to establish. Mike's Beta stepped forward. I knew him too. Marcus. He'd been one of the few wolves who'd never gone out of his way to hurt me when I'd been part of this pack. Not kind, but not cruel either. Just indifferent.

One of the werewolves came to end my misery and he approached me with caution. “Stop. No harm shall befall the girl. It would bring too much suspicion, we’ll have other chances to exact revenge but for now we must make use of our heads.” The warden uttered like a law. The soldiers proceeded backwards canceling their form. I had no strength left in me to attack as I stayed on the ground paralyzed. The Warden limped towards my mother, his cane which assisted him tapping with a spine-chilling rhythm. With an otherworldly smile he raised it, and in a swift, merciless motion, split her throat.

The Wardens moved in perfect formation — four lines, staggered, their mirrored masks catching the pale moonlight. Each carried a crossbow already loaded with silvered bolts; each step forward was deliberate, as if they were closing an iron trap. Snow crunched under Killian’s boots as he backed toward the slope. Shadows curled at his fingertips, ready to lash. “Varrow wants you breathing,” the lead Warden called, voice filtered through the mask. “Don’t make us ruin that for him.”