Ragnar Lothbrok Novels & Stories

My eyes almost popped out of their sockets. "I didn't mean to be rude but interrupting your special day and staining the dress of your beautiful bride. It's just that it's been a while since I saw you. Jackson Will Smith. The bravest and fastest. They've praised you rather frequently for being known as a rogue that made his own pack. You're notorious to us, just as we're to you." He asked with a scornful look. He shifted his gaze to mine and smiled ruefully.

This was where I met him—Ragnar, the rogue I’d fed coins and secrets to for years, my shadow, my blade in the dark. I pushed through the creaking door, my eyes adjusting to the dim light, my heart racing as Ragnar stepped forward, his hulking frame scarred, his yellow eyes gleaming with hunger. Not Darius, the warrior I’d pitched to Marcus, but Ragnar, a rogue so vile even the BloodMoon pack shunned him. He was my secret weapon, loyal only to my gold, my promises. “Veron,” he growled, his voice rough, his claws flexing. “What’s the job?”

Ryu’s voice deepened. His whole body was covered in blood, his eyes glowing red like a true monster; even my father couldn’t make his eyes look so intimidating. “I am the Alpha; I am Ryu, and I am a predator who feeds on his enemies like prey.”

He growled in my face almost animalistic. I looked away. He threw the bag of food and water in front of me on the bed. “Eat, drink, and then we will play again.” “I’m not being drugged again.” “Drink or I will force you.” I shook my head and threw the bottle against the wall and watched as it burst open, and the water pooled onto the floor. I watched his expression change as anger filled him. He grabbed me around my throat, and I clawed and scratched as much as I could at him but before long, I could feel myself blacking out.

His aura was compact, disciplined, controlled so tightly it barely registered unless you were looking for it. Lykos — Werewolf Candidate Trait: Speed & Precision Combat Style: Lethal Economy Mentality: Observant, Patient Current Rank: High Tier, Stable The silver-streaked candidate—Riven—paced himself, eyes scanning constantly, already calculating rivals. Riven — Werewolf Candidate Trait: Leadership Aura Combat Style: Adaptive Mentality: Strategic Current Rank: High Tier, Rising Alpha noted them all. Not with envy. With inevitability. After running came forms training.