Poison Mist Ash Of War Novels & Stories

He crashes into another soldier and both slam into a crate. I blink. Nyxara’s expression hasn’t changed. But I know. She did that. Without touching him. Without moving. Without even looking directly at him. My wolf watches her carefully. “You keep doing that.” “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” “Terrible liar.” “You’ve said that.” Another hunter raises his weapon. His flashlight flickers. Then dies. Then another. Then another. Within seconds the warehouse sinks back into darkness. Only moonlight remains. Nyxara finally looks up at me.

“I… She has been feeding my son poison, and trying to control him using it. That’s why he’s actually in the clinic. We are working on detoxing him.” “What?” he stood. The horror in his eyes was not exaggerated. I felt that same horror before, even worse, I lived it. So I understood. “Asher was POISONED?” “Not a usual poison, not the regular kind,” lder Miriam explained, finally setting her surprisingly empty cup down. She had really drank all of it while it was still steaming hot. “It’s the kind that can make anyone mad. It can turn you against your own mate, against your child, against anyone you hold dear, if you let it touch you.”

“I never wanted to leave this pack. I…I liked you. I wanted to stay here and be your friend.” There was a war, it seemed, one raging in both my head and body. I didn’t know which side was which, or who had won until it was too late. The walls around me melted, their fresh paint peeling and speckled with blood. A red plastic bucket sat in the corner against the far wall, rancid from human waste. I’d live with that bucket a thousand times over if it meant wiping away the blood and grime that coated my body like a second, third, and fourth skin.

I cover my mouth, trying hard to ignore the pain. "Now, you'll either learn to shut up, or I'll do it for you permanently." He yells, pointing the gun at my head, daring me to make a sound. I hold in my breathe, and let him continue. "As I was saying.. this has everything to do with you. The night before your parents died, your mother took you to one of her colleagues. They were known for specialized tattoos. The ink they use is invisible to the naked eye. The tattoo she gave you, is commonly called a micro dot. Micro dots are used to hide information in plain sight. They're called microdots because of their size. They're extremely small, barely visible to the naked eye. With special light,

Hot tears. They burned my red bumpy skin. “Help. Anyone?” My voice was raspy. I didn't only feel fear. I could taste it slithering down my throat. I felt a presence. A strong presence. Superior. Powerful. “Embrace it.” A thick and uneven whispering voice spoke. The ash I tried to scrub off from my body slowly dispersed into the air, forming a ball of thick dark fog. Fiery eyes shone from within the fog. “Embrace it.” It said louder, more austere.

Joe hissed. Asher couldn’t understand what was happening, one minute he was fine and in the next, he was feeling so weak like every strength has been drained from him. He glanced around him, the whole ground was covered in silver dust and it was then it occurred to him: Wolfsbane. He turned and glared at Gideon and seeing the bag in his hand, he knew he was the one that released the toxic dust. However, what he couldn’t understand was why Gideon would do that if they are all wolves. But seeing how erect they were all still standing and how he was the only one affected, he realized that the wolfsbane doesn’t affect them because they are mutants.

“Alpha Asher, what are you doing!” The soldier placed Roman in front of Asher. With just one look, Asher made that boy stop wailing and fighting. “Let me tell you something, Roman,” Asher spoke up coldly, “ The same poison that you used on Evelyn was burning in the car that brought you here. You’ve already inhaled a lethal dose.” Roman let out a short cry of terror. Leah swayed, almost collapsing into Tristan’s arms. Asher held up the small plastic bottle and waved it in front of Roman’s face:

Just then, a small head peeked through the suffocating smoke. “Madam, do you need any help?” someone asked timidly. I forced my eyes open and saw a young boy who was about the same age as my son. He was covered in ash and dirt, but his eyes shone brightly through the smoke. He was so small in size, yet he managed to muster the strength to help me up. Then, together, we slowly made our way outside. The path to the outside was incredibly challenging, and I felt like giving up several times.

He gave her a look that was all affection on the surface, but behind his eyes, a storm was brewing. Later, when she was asleep, Xander slipped into the study, poured himself a glass of whiskey, and stared out the window at the rain. “She’s tougher than I thought,” he muttered. “But everyone breaks eventually.” He opened a drawer and pulled out a tiny, unlabeled bottle something he’d “borrowed” from one of his father’s shady contacts. It wasn't poison. Just something that could cause severe stress on the body. Miscarriage wasn’t guaranteed, but it would significantly increase the risk.