Rush X Ambush Novels & Stories

Lenny grabbed the dash and swore once, an old church word turned battlefield. The convoy accordion-ed. The van behind them braked and tapped the rear bumper with a kiss that was almost polite. The third SUV took the shoulder, fishtailed, recovered, threw gravel like shrapnel. “Ambush!” the lead driver shouted into a microphone that wasn’t going to save him. Men poured from the box truck, silhouettes with speed, masks cheap and effective. Not Maretti, Sasha realized in the fast cataloging part of her mind. Not DeLuca. Marino. The kind who sell their aim to whoever pays them to be ugly.

Fresh. A snarl curved from my throat. “Spread,” I ordered, voice cutting like a blade. They obeyed, scattering between alleys and broken doorframes. I stalked forward, claws half-bared, ears pricked to every creak of timber, every crunch of snow. And then the silence shattered. Shouts split the air, steel rang against steel, and figures poured from the ruins—humans, not starved stragglers but armed men, their blades coated black. An ambush.

My hand shot up, signaling silence. The scout beside me whispered, “Movement...to the north ridge.” I inhaled, my wolf stirring. The scent hit me...Ravenfall steel and something darker. Bitter and wrong this time. “Ambush,” I hissed. “On me.” We burst forward as one.

The first Raven went down hard, blood splattering across the road. Ashley swerved, gravel flying. “It is an ambush! Cartel—north route!” Ace’s voice broke through static. “Hold on, I’m coming!” Rafe shouted, “Fall back!” But half his men were already down. The SUVs boxed the survivors in, closing fast. Ashley pushed her bike hard, dodging bullets. One SUV turned to ram her. She slid sideways, fired twice through the windshield, and watched it flip over in flames. She didn’t see the next truck until it hit her. The impact threw her off the bike. She hit the road and rolled, helmet scraping sparks. Pain shot through her arm. She stopped, coughing, the taste of blood in her mouth.

Both my arms moved like lightning, wrapping around Emelia's body with fierce, protective urgency, drawing her hard against me, giving her the anchor of my steadiness even as the world around us erupted into chaos. By some grace, the hold I had on her meant she had not struck the seat in front of us during that brutal stop. My eyes cut through the darkness beyond the glass. Through the bulletproof windows, I could see silhouettes — figures dressed entirely in black — emerging from the surrounding bushes and hillsides, moving with practiced purpose. They carried long-barreled weapons, and they were closing in, encircling our vehicles. My instinct had been right all along. This was no ordinary

I looked like every other mid-level consultant drowning his mid-life crisis, now looking for foundation at the club. I sat at a corner booth, hunched over a manila file filled with dummy reports. I poured a glass of bourbon and let a splash hit the table, the wet wood smelling of rot. A faint crackle hissed in my earpiece—the sound of the microscopic transmitter tucked deep inside my ear canal. "Alpha, Damien and his friends have been handled," Victor’s voice came through, low and strained. "Good," I replied, my voice a steady, cold shadow. "But there’s a problem at the club. An ambush. We’ve got at least four professionals on the floor. They’re looking for you, but they’re blind—nobody has

I peeked out just in time to see Dax slide into the driver’s seat, his face set in grim determination. "Hold on," he muttered as he gunned the engine. The car surged forward, and I was thrown back against the seat as we sped off, weaving through the streets like a scene straight out of Fast & Furious. But this wasn’t a movie. This was real. And deadly. "We’re really in an ambush?" I gasped, clutching the seat as Dax took a sharp turn. "You need to tell me what’s going on in your life. I swear, if I survive this, I’m going to need therapy. What if your enemies come after me next? I can’t live like this!"

replied Alexander with a vague smile, not wanting Amber to worry. He put away his phone and looked ahead, seeing Wyverna Grand Hotel standing tall among the buildings in the distance. They were close to their destination. Suddenly, Alexander heard a noise. Before the ambushers could leap out of the bushes, he released over a dozen bursts of energy. These people were not even martial practitioners. They truly had no fear of death. "Aahh!" Screams were followed by the sound of bodies hitting the ground. The competition among the candidates had become extremely fierce, resorting to ruthless measures without hesitation.

His eyes were sharp, cruel, alive with unfinished rage. Then the attack came. Ash Pack wolves burst from the trees. Arrows hissed through the mist. Blades flashed. Chaos followed. The ground churned under paws and boots. Moonrise warriors met the ambush head-on, the line bending but refusing to break. Xander was at the center of it. His voice cut through the madness. “For Moonrise! For your Luna! Hold!”

Exposing themselves would be suicide. Inside Building 21, the Mad Wolves crouched behind walls and corners, terrified, praying that Cyrus would not choose to enter. Outside, Cyrus continued hunting down the remaining gang members. Each time he caught up to someone, one bullet finished the job. It took little effort. The last man scrambled toward Building 21. Before he reached the entrance, the roar of the snowmobile rose behind him. Cyrus slowed, looked at the pitch-black corridor ahead, and confirmed what he already suspected. Ambushers waited inside.