Sentinel Mcu Novels & Stories

I was involved with the hunters, trafficking rings, and other shit long before I came to the Council, but I made sure that it was never tied to me. While Corey and I were partners, we weren’t equals even if he didn’t realize it. He was great at following orders but lacked strategic foresight. That was precisely why I made the plans. Sentinels were our warriors. They were trained to be elite warriors because they were an army and were sent out to keep order among the various packs. It was also their jobs to do the investigations whenever we had a need for it.

Saint and I both try to decide if we should trust her. “What’s her deal, Saint? How come you weren’t willing to hurt Leticia, but you have no problem snapping this woman’s neck?” I ask him curiously. “We are only responsible for the Mavri Magea. Contessa leads the Sentinel. She can kiss my fluffy white ass,” he growls. That was not helpful at all. Let's try this again. “Sentinel? So she is some sort of guard or warrior or something?” “Yeah. They all have giant sticks up their asses. Always worried about the 'rules',” he huffs.

These were keepers of a king, and every one of them knew what this moment meant. This was not about the enemy anymore. This was about Damian Vitale. They formed a circle around him—tight, unyielding—closing ranks as the last Mercer forces vanished into the dark. Swords were sheathed. Shields dropped. Claws came out. Fangs slid free with wet, animal sounds as the Sentinels half-turned—human frames breaking just enough to let the other part of them surface. Eyes burned obsidian-black. Spines bowed. Shoulders broadened. They did not roar.

She looked small, a scrap of a girl in a stained medic’s jacket, standing amidst the ruins of the most advanced security system in Eldergloom. "The girl speaks of souls while her hands are covered in the grease of a sewer," the Sentinel replied, his voice a mechanical drone that lacked any human cadence. He stood seven feet tall, his armor a polished, seamless silver that reflected the swirling sapphire twilight above. He stepped over the smoldering remains of his comrade, his heavy boots making a hollow, terrifying sound on the polished stone. "You have opened a door that only leads to your grave. Did you think a hammer could stop the Queen’s design?"

The sentinels. They were massive, each one easily six and a half feet tall with shoulders that could block doorways. Their black uniforms were fitted with silver buckles and leather straps, and their faces were hidden behind dark masks that left only their eyes visible. Those eyes glowed with a faint blue light, marking them as enhanced beings. "You are not authorized to be here, Alpha O'Donoghue," the center one spoke, his voice deep and mechanical through whatever device modified it. I straightened my shoulders, calling on every ounce of Alpha authority I possessed. "I'm here on official business. Stand aside."

The sentinel smiled and turned to leave, refusing to give Isolde the clothing Roga had brought for her. As he exited the cell, leering at Isolde while he locked the metal door, the sentinel paused mid-way, freezing. There was someone behind him. The sentinel whipped around, shocked to see the beta. The male hadn’t been around since the ordeal. Standing in the dark halls with his hands tucked into his pocket, the male glared at the sentinel. “Beta,” The sentinel cowered in fear, stuttering. He began to backpedal as the beta lunged forward.

A cup of coffee sat in front of him, untouched and probably cold. "You said it was important." "It is." He leaned back, studying her with an intensity that made her want to look away. But she held his gaze, refusing to be the first to break. "What do you know about the Sentinel?" The question threw her. "The vigilante? Only what everyone knows. Someone's been taking down gang operations across the South Side for the past two years. The police can't catch him. The gangs are terrified of him." She frowned. "What does that have to do with—"

Silas shouted, his rifle barking as he opened fire. The ice became a battlefield of blue sparks and black oil. Caleb pulled Ava behind a jagged rock, his handgun firing with a rhythmic, lethal precision. "The Sentinels aren't programmed to kill you, Ava! They’re programmed to 'Archive' you! If they take you, they’ll put you in cryo-stasis forever!" "I'm not becoming a museum exhibit," Ava hissed. She looked at the Sentinel sphere. It wasn't attacking the soldiers; it was watching her. It was waiting for her to submit to the "Status: Terminal."

"It bypasses the Academy’s jammers. If the Sentinels so much as sneeze, you press that button. I’ll be back within the hour by private jet if necessary." The warriors of Chaos Valley stood in formation, a sea of disciplined, powerful shifters who owed their lives and their dignity to the Silver crest. I looked at them—my real family—and felt a swell of pride. I wasn't the girl who had been kicked out of Sandwell. I was the Alpha who had built a nation. The morning of the term’s start, the Twin Sentinels were bathed in a golden sunrise. The hum of the helicopter’s blades echoed through the valley as we boarded.

we thought the consortium would have you in sector Omega centuries ago destroyed. My name is Sentinel Vane. I command this bunker.” “They tried Sentinel,” replied Kael dry. “But I’m hard to kill. Vane's glitt to me. She must have my collapsing equipment, Tool backpack and the old modified rifle on my back. ‘And the is...? No armor of the Old World. She looks like a plunder from the Ödland.” Kael immediately stepped in front of me, a protective, instinctive movement. His eyes narrowed dangerously. “Your words should be carefully selected,