Rebels Iron Squadron Novels & Stories

It was a faint spark, not the roaring bonfire of the Void, but it was there. "I can try," Tristan said. "But we need to get there first. And we need the fleet." The Rendezvous Point The Mammoth ran out of track at the edge of the Dragontooth Cliffs. The rail line ended abruptly, twisted metal hanging over a hundred-foot drop into the churning gray ocean. Below, hidden in a cove of jagged black rock, lay the Rebel Fleet. It was a magnificent, ragtag sight. The stolen cruiser Sovereign sat in the center, looking like a scarred beast. Around it clustered hundreds of smaller vessels—pirate sloops with patched sails, Iron-Kin barges armored with scrap metal, and sleek merchant runners from the Fr

Rebel and Siddharth were best friends, they had the same teacher who was Rebel's grandfather, however during their training years it was Siddharth who would always beat Rebel in the game, creating a high opinion and position for himself in his grandfather's heart As a result Siddharth rose to fame quicker and was more feared, however Rebel fell out with his grandfather for having favoured Siddharth more and he left the country to join the other world. That was why he harboured concealed feelings to snatch away everything that Siddharth had

The sixteen allies, united by the common thread of freedom, huddled in secrecy, far from the prying eyes of Athena's enforcers. Maximus, his eyes gleaming with a fierce resolve, took charge of the impromptu war council. "We cannot afford to underestimate Bastian and his soldiers. Our survival hinges on outsmarting them at every turn," he declared, his voice a low murmur carrying the weight of rebellion. The rebels, a diverse group with different backgrounds and skills, listened intently. Among them were former gladiators, skilled artisans, and even a few who possessed knowledge of the wilderness – a formidable blend of talents that Maximus sought to harness.

He raised his mercury-arm, and a signal flared. From the shadows of the black glass towers, a hundred Scrappers emerged. But they weren't Jago’s boys. They were Void-Scrappers—men and women whose skin had been hardened by the pressure of the deep, their eyes glowing with a steady, unrefined violet. The "Mother’s Shadow." The rebels I had been looking for since. "The harvest is over, Elena," Arthur said. The family reunion was complete, and it was a bloodbath. "Kill them," Elena screamed at Julian.

But survival demanded this play, at least until I could turn the tide. Around us, the battle intensified. Rebels formed a tighter circle, their numbers thinning but fierce. One of Isaak's betas, a burly wolf with silver streaks, tore into two rebels at once, claws flashing as he disemboweled the first and crushed the second's windpipe with his jaws. I slipped away from Draven during the distraction, moving toward Isaak and Rhaedon. My blade caught a rebel's arm, sending him howling, but I kept my eyes on my mates.

There he was— leaning against the auditorium doorway, dressed in all leather black, clutching a helmet, exuding that dangerous calm was— Killian Lancaster— The school bad boy— The school rebel. The dream boy of every female. Boys wanted to be like him, girls wanted him as a boyfriend, teachers saw him as a nuisance who's hardly in school or attended classes but somehow aced all his classes. He's freaking hot with his tall lean intimidating height, coupled with his pretty face and his long jet black hair hanging on his shoulders to round off the ensemble. His water glass eyes that melted both boys and girls fixated on me.

"They want my Ancestor's Bloodline? Fine. I'll let them see what the Ancestor's Bloodline can really do." Elias looked at my determined expression and finally understood. "You're going on the offensive?" "Yes," I nodded. "But not by walking into a trap alone. We're going in with overwhelming force to wipe them off the map." I walked to the communications console and began pulling up the military deployment maps for the Silver Moon and Ridge packs. "These northern rebels have been hiding in the shadows for too long. It's time to drag them all out and wipe them out in one go." My father came to my side, looking at the deployment map.

She was older, but she moved like she was way younger, she was silent, efficient, deadly. Eira stirred within me, already rising close to the surface. “Let me help,” she whispered, her voice calm but ready. “Let me run.” I gave her more control. Not fully — not yet — but enough to heighten my strength, my speed. Enough to let my instincts guide me. We darted across the lower levels of the town, staying behind buildings and slipping through alleyways. Our small strike team, eight rebels, all Moirea, all trusted, followed without a word. Everyone knew their role. Everyone knew what was at stake.

I yelled as the guards opened fire on Shirley. The moon flickered, a strong wind and sandstorm sent the bullets back and they killed the guards. It happened so fast. I looked at the moon and it kept flickering, its illuminating light overshadowing us. “what just happened milady? Why is everyone dead?" Shirley inquired, her face filled with shock. I didn't wait to answer or explain a phenomenon I couldn't fathom. I hooked fingers with her as we continued racing, our heels touching the back of our heads.

Just when I thought my life was hopeless, that he was soaring in heaven while I was trapped in hell, I heard the news that he had betrayed the organization. "Ten years ago, the organization's most elite unit, the Iron Cavalry squad, consisted of 100 men, all martial saints and promising young warriors under 30. You know what happened? Every single one of them died in battle, and not one returned." He added, "The dark forces from the Western underground empire tore apart every member of the Iron Cavalry squad. Along with their bodies, they also destroyed a century's worth of the organization's accumulated resources. "The annihilation of the Iron Cavalry dealt a fatal blow to the organization.