Razor Red Rising Novels & Stories

"You’re clever, cara mia. I’ll give you that." Her stomach dropped. He stepped into the light, shadows dancing across his face. "Alonso Delgado never made it past his twentieth birthday. I did." She couldn’t breathe. "What?" He moved closer, until the poker nearly touched his chest. "I’m Esteban. Esteban Gallego." The name struck her like lightning. The Gallegos; rivals of the Delgados. Ruthless. Vicious. Responsible for the massacre in Medellin.

I looked it up and printed out a map, I made a rough plan of where I would place each guard. I was shocked when Ryan walked into my room while I was placing the last couple of markers on the map. “Dude, dinner is ready” He walked up to the map and then faced me. “Is this the map of where Phillip is going to take her?” he whispered. “Yeah, all the pins are where I am going to be placing the guards” “What do the colours stand for?” “Red is sniper, green is hand to hand and blue is standard guard” “You going to be a sniper?”

The sun had barely begun to rise, casting faint streaks of orange and pink across the horizon. Erika tightened the laces of her training shoes, her breath clouding in the crisp morning air. Her heart thudded in a mix of anticipation and trepidation. Today was the beginning of something new—her first day of combat training with Alessandro.

"Why are you so annoying? I already said I can't tell you the details. I've tried my best for you already. If your life means nothing to you, risk it. That's your choice. Fen, go and drop her at home." Rita’s POV: This guy has got to be crazy or at least suffer from multiple personality disorder because there is no other explanation for his inconsistent actions. One minute he's acting nice, the next he's like an angry lion. I picked up my bag and headed straight for the door. I can’t stand this jerk anymore, and I would be a bastard to listen to him. Fen opened the door, and we quietly drove out of the compound. "You can just drop me at the nearest bus station; I will find my way back to sch

However, before the food was served, the waiter brought over a bouquet of red roses. "This is for Ms. Stafford, sent by one Mr. Pennington in congratulations for the successful art exhibition." Heather did not take the flowers. She told the waiter to send them back. "Tell Mr. Pennington that I don't like red roses." Red roses were Anne's favorite, not hers. She only liked pink ones.

Synth and Drago did the same thing, and then rogues and rebels emerged from the shadows, including the prisoners who had escaped from the Hidden Valley. As the thunder strikes, the Alphas growled once more, expressing their power and rage. The clear skies with stars are no longer visible because they have been replaced by dark clouds and lightning. The warriors attacked their opponents right on cue after another lightning strike. Then, as soon as their fangs had reached their flesh, rain began to fall from the sky, intensifying their rage and desire to kill.

Tonight was the hunt, and she was both the predator and the storm. Nyxara Vale—the White Wolf, reborn, unstoppable, ravenous—had risen from the ashes. And she would make certain that every moment they had tried to bury her was unearthed, dragged into the light, and remembered for the reckoning it deserved.

They were incredibly rich and the Manor is a living proof to that. Though they were elites, the Reds and their loyal subjects were knit-tight and they all look at Henry as their leader for a good reason. He is the Alpha of the Red Manor, one of the five strongest packs that existed in the country and Henry’s condition was still a mystery both to Francis and the rest. He woke up one day feeling so ill and it spiraled downhill from there.

The number made me too depressed so I swiftly gave up that train of thought. Apart from the occasional rosemary scent lingering in a corridor, there is no sign of Cyrus either. Raze finally called us together for a meeting the day of the full moon. Stood with his shirt off after helping haul mattresses into the centre, his body shone, the dramatic sword tattoo captivating as always. A surly, down-beaten bunch of men and women faced him. Clad in t-shirts and shorts like an interrupted slumber party. I hung at the back, not wanting to catch anyone's eye.

They took their seats wordlessly, a storm already brewing in the silence between them. Azar placed his tablet on the table and tapped the screen. A holographic projection of Red’s base glowed into life. The image pulsed red at certain coordinates—heat signatures, perhaps, or planned movement paths. “He’s moved,” Azar announced coolly. “Red is pulling his assets back to their base. Every single field informant is being recalled. He’s preparing something big.” Zev's expression did not change, but his fingers drummed once against the armrest of his chair. "It was only a matter of time."