Run On Red Novels & Stories

The sun rose and set, but time felt meaningless to Marco when every day was the same. Pain. Control. Fear. And Uncertainty. As he got on his feet, he let out a faint groan, his muscles twitching with each movement, a reminder of the pain and strain he endured. There were faint red marks on his shoulder. One he'd gotten from the stripes Antonio's men gave him when he confronted them some days ago. In the dimly lit corridor, Antonio’s footsteps and voice were audible as he discussed with the guards.

“She was looking right at me, Orion. Her eyes weren’t yellow. They were red.” I staggered back a step, disbelief hitting me like a punch to the gut. Red eyes. Only alphas had red eyes. Ravenna is an alpha? how?

"This will do the trick." It's deep cherry red.

The color reminded her of the roses in her garden back home. “Red," she whispered. Violeta looked at her with a smirk. "That's a good name. I like it." They finally stopped at a heavy wooden door. A golden plaque with the words ‘VIP Suite’ was engraved on it. Two large men stood in front of it. One with a gun, the other with a knife. Evie almost passed out when she noticed they were holding those weapons. “Her name is Red,” Violeta told the guards. Her voice was a little higher though. Like she wanted someone else to hear her.

Weston simply shakes his head with this stupid smirk not leaving his face. Millan rolls his eyes. Whatever. He’ll find out I’m a crappy omega soon enough anyway, he concludes. “Fine.” Millan averts Weston’s eyes focusing on the white sheets instead. He speaks as fast as he wants this moment to be over with. “Red means ‘don’t go back’ and green means ‘you probably won’t get killed if you really have to go back’. Although the X means it’s preferable to move on.” Weston’s smile disappears and Millan's gaze is tearing a hole in the sheets.

Cortisol spike detected. [Warning: once unfairness count reaches 3, the brain-death program will execute immediately. Current progress: 1/3.] I yanked my sleeve free from Landon and stood up. "I don't understand. "Why do I have to yield just because he's weaker? Why do I have to sacrifice myself just because he bonded with some system?" "Aaron!"

But no matter how fast Aaron moved, the Herald seemed to anticipate every strike, countering with brutal precision. “Your defiance means nothing,” the Herald snarled, slamming Aaron against the wall. “The vessel’s fate is sealed.” Aaron spat blood, grinning despite the blow. “You should worry less about her fate and more about your own.” The shadows around him flared, and for a moment, he wasn’t just a man—he was a storm. He struck with all the rage of centuries of pain, driving the Herald back step by step. But then, something changed. The runes on the walls began to pulse—first gold, then red, then black. The light inside the Herald’s armor flared brighter, feeding on the chaos.

"Name’s Red. Real name's Felix, but he dyed his hair in college and never looked back. He deals in secrets." She gave me a look. "And we trust him?" "No. But he trusts me." Red lived in an old arcade that hadn’t been open since before the pack wars. He kept the lights on and the machines working because it made him feel powerful. Like he ran his own little kingdom of ghosts. He saw us coming on his security cams and unlocked the gate with a loud buzz. "Nora Ainsley. The storm-chaser herself. And look at this! Luna on the run! Your taste in guests has gotten way more interesting."

"Oh, it's you. Set up the camera on the desk, adjust the angle, and get back to work." She gave a slight nod and walked in. "Welcome back, Scarlett." The sun was shining outside the window. The ER's ambulance rushed out, speeding off to pick up another patient.