Rebels Iron Squadron Novels & Stories

Behind him, hundreds of rebels poured forth, snarling and ready. “FOR THE VALENTINES!” Thomas bellowed, his voice carrying through the night. The witches hesitated. And then the rebels struck. The swamp water turned red as bodies fell—witches screaming as claws and fangs tore them apart. The air reeked of iron and burnt herbs. The rebels moved like a single organism, their fury unstoppable. Inside, the screams were different. Junie’s cry was sharper now, her nails digging into Rio’s arms. Sweat beaded on her pale forehead.

“Me too.” Lucan appeared behind him, bloodied but grinning. “We’ve got a problem. The Gravemourn flipped. They’re not just mercs. They’ve been feeding the Crimson Order for years.” “What?” Kael barked. “They’re holding the rebel Luna. She bought us time, but—” A crash shook the entire fortress. And I turned— Just in time to see Darian walk through the smoke. Flanked by a dozen new wolves—silver-eyed, branded with crescent marks.

I scoffed lightly, Better to die by their guns than to have that handcuff shamelessly cuffed around my wrist. The moment I saw a tiny spot for me to escape through I dashed towards it, calculating in my head that they wouldn’t want to fire bullet in an open space where majority of civilians are. But I was wrong, at the first step I took, I felt bullet pierce into my body, by the time I had moved three steps away, numerous shots had been fired into my body, i coughed out blood and slumped to my knee. My lips stretched into a smile and I looked up at Damon, “Send my hate to the rest of you guys,”

Hela," Ramon's daughter, is as disagreeable as you say, wouldn't my lordship over the pack and her father's lordship intercede on marrying her?" Red roared in anger, "This offer is suspicious! How can a father devalue his daughter to this extent?! He presents her to you as a wife, and on top of that, he hands you his position?!. There's no doubt that there's a mystery behind that." "Hela Marcos is not our mate either." Our strength comes from the rogue, you stupid. Alex, realize that this rebel has increased our strength, and we haven't even tagged her yet. Imagine what happens after we leave our mark on her!"

“Yes there was. But in exchange for his loyalty, I would spare their lives. Your squad’s lives that is. But I can’t say the same for the other parties. As of the moment, a team is already dispatched to find the rebels who are disguising themselves among us.” My hands balled into fist as I brought it down on the table that left a big dent on the metallic material. Lord Ylgarr let out a whistle. “They really weren’t exaggerating when they said that your strength is matched with Byron.” He chuckled. “Oh who am I kidding? You’re both siblings after all!” “Don’t hurt them.” “I already made that promise.” “Not them.” “If you mean the rebels, then I apologize but I cannot allow them to live.” He sa

Aldric's POV The next two days pass in a bit of a blur. Despite his aversion to religion, Baron honours the rituals and celebrations to the letter of The Book. I don’t usually come here to celebrate, but this year Baron insisted that I attend. Almost all the elders are here. The only exception is Vesper, my brother. He’s an open traitor, working with the human rebellion. Baron placed a price on his head years ago, but no one can seem to find Vesper. I know exactly where he is, but I’d rather drink battery acid than tell Baron.

“But we will need more. The Council won’t fall with a single strike. This is just the beginning.” He hesitated. “And Ryder?” Her chest tightened. “What about him?” “Some of the rebels say they’ve seen him beyond the pines,” Thalen murmured. “They call him the Ghost Alpha now. They say he fights for the packs again.” She swallowed, keeping her face still despite the storm raging within. “Ghost stories keep people hopeful. Let them talk.” “And if he really is out there?” “Then I hope he stays far from me,” she whispered. “For his sake.”

“About the Council. About you.” Of course they did. In this world, word traveled on the backs of whispers faster than wings. I squared my shoulders. “Let them in.” Killian bristled. “Selene—” “If we want to survive, we need allies. And if this is a threat, I want to hear it to its face.” The Ironblood scout was waiting just beyond the gates, flanked by two of our wolves. He wasn’t tall, but he held himself like someone used to command. His leathers bore the Ironblood crest—a bleeding fang across a cracked shield.

I stepped beside her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “He’s not lost,” I said quietly, though the words felt fragile. “Not yet.” Her jaw tightened, and she nodded, her determination returning. “Then we stop this.” Together, we moved back into the fight. Side by side, we drove the Iron Claw back into the woods. The rebels retreated as quickly as they had appeared, leaving behind a smoldering wagon and scattered supplies. As the dust settled, I surveyed the damage. The caravan was battered but intact. The supplies we had fought so hard to protect would still reach the Quarters.

It moved like a ghost from the 1940s, a primitive, clanking monster of iron. ​On its mast flew a banner that made Kael’s blood run cold. It wasn't the Sterling Lion or the Ouroboros. It was a red circle with a black diagonal strike—the symbol of the Iron Reclamation, the warlord-led remnants of the mainland who believed that the "Wild" was a plague that needed to be paved over. ​"They're not looking for the Seed," Kael whispered, reaching for the signal horn at his belt. "They're looking for the iron."