Sergeant Dornan Novels & Stories

Not Damien, who understood it but expressed things differently. Dorn had walked into this library twenty minutes after meeting me and said it as casually as remarking on the weather. "I'm Dorn," he said. "You already know that." "Nova," I said. "How are you. Actually." The question arrived with a specificity I hadn't encountered since Vesna. Not social. Not tactical. Just direct. "Getting better at it," I said. "The carrying." "Yes," he said. "That's what he said too." We talked for three hours.

It was very visible that that wasn't a topic he was willing to have, not now or ever, but Elle, being a little on the dumb side, didn't read the signs. “Oh I know. Her father is the lead rogue that caused the massacre so many years ago, right?” Just then, Damien sensed Ariel's presence in the room, and immediately their eyes clashed. Ariel wished with all fibre in her body that she could turn back the hands of time, to stop herself from entering the room. She sensed the anger in him, and knew for sure that she was in for a very rough night.

one of the Don ‘’s men said immediately he made his way through the front door, Ben went to see the Don in his room. The latter was sitting on his bed smoking “Sir” Ben said getting his attention “Ben. You are back” The Don said his voice flat “Yes” Ben said “Have you heard what happened?” He asked, Ben decided to pretend he didn't know anything “No Sir” he answered “Dora killed a total of 35 of our men including Louis. She held a knife to my head and do you know what she said” the Don laughed

Everyone exited the Humvees and gathered in the parking lot. From what Zane could see Daniels was the highest rank, besides the other Sergeant. His insignia was different from Daniels but he assumed it was Sergeant anyways. This Sergeant was about 6’1, he was an african american man with finely toned muscle. Zane could not see his hair, but green eyes shone from beneath his bandana that he wore on his face. His eyes were bright against his skin tone. Zane assumed he had a shaved head with a finely shaved beard. His men were all a little shorter than him. They looked like hardened men. Their faces were covered with bandanas and their helmets were black as well.

Phillip and Standfast stood nearby, arms crossed, watching the scene unfold. "Sit," Donovan commanded, his voice cold. The guard complied, his legs trembling as he sank into the chair. Donovan leaned forward, his gaze piercing. "You left your post without authorization," he began, his tone dangerously calm. "And now, my wife and Teni are missing. Explain yourself."

“Which of you left these footprints?” Nathan turned to the healer, who looked at the footprints. Doreon watched the road, following the trail of footprints with his frowning forehead. Doreon was the brightest man Nathan had ever known, and although his choice to put him in charge of the royal army was a strategic move to appease some of the lords, Doreon had earned that position. No one was a strategist like him, no one could lead an army like him, and no one could solve mysteries like him. Doreon was a tracker, able to find any trace, a spy who knew how to make himself invisible to the eyes of all, and able to pull out information even to the most sealed mouths. His intuitions had been usef

Someone within the room asked where the other priest was and Sethlzaar heard the awkward mumbled response of the soldier before he stepped in. He’d expected a fumbled presentation from the soldier. However, the voice that spoke was one he found himself surprised to recognize. “Ah,” Dragmund said, excited and looking straight at him, “Father Sorf… Sona… Sor…” the excitement in his voice was fizzling out. “Sorti… Sorl…” the man’s lips puckered awkwardly. He looked down and away, then cleared his throat conspicuously. “So as you were saying, Butler Dhon.”

State your business ( The guard asks gruffly) UNKNOWN MILITARY MAN : I am Sergeant G. Granger. I have come to meet with the Haven council, please let me go in and meet with them. I have an important piece of information to pass on to them. ( he replies with some difficulty though there was still an alarming sense of urgency in his voice) GUARD #2 : What is this piece of information you want to pass on, you seem unwell ( the female guard asks with a bit of concern for the man standing before her)

Ronan said, his voice cold, merciless. Dorian’s lips curled into a twisted grin. “You think this is over? You think you’ve won?” He laughed, the sound low and menacing. “You have no idea what you’ve started. You’ve made enemies of the wrong people.” Ronan’s expression never wavered. “You should have stayed hidden, Dorian. Now you’ll pay for underestimating me.” With a single, swift motion, Ronan pulled the trigger. The world seemed to stand still as Dorian’s body slumped to the ground, lifeless.

Good. Midmorning, the lock turned. The man who stepped inside carried charm the way others carried weapons; openly, confidently, without apology. Dark hair, a smile designed to disarm, eyes far too sharp for a man who relied on charisma alone. “Vittoria Guerra,” he said lightly. “Dante Costello.” Second in command. I knew it instantly. Not because of rank, but because the guards behind him straightened just slightly. He didn’t ask permission to enter.