Sergeant Dornan Novels & Stories

The way storms are before they break. Daniel Donovan sat halfway down the table, his gold tie loosened, his whiskey untouched. The Irishman looked older than I last saw him, his eyes hollow. He’d seen death before. He’d survived it. But as he watched me approach him, I can see he clearly believed we were dead. I stopped in front of him. Slowly, deliberately, I drew my gun and raised it to his temple. His jaw tensed, but he didn’t flinch. “Tell me about Eli,” I said, voice soft, sharp enough to cut.

He glanced at his father from the corner of his bleeding eye as he held his dislocated jaw. Beta Brock and Alpha Corien were behind Alpha Dax. Deep green eyes stared at Dorien from the door. A murderous aura filled the room as Dorien locked eyes with the owner of those eyes. Dorien tore his gaze from Marian, returning his eyes to his father. “I,” Dorien croaked, “I,” his eyes snapped to Reyland, then, for the first time, his eyes scanned the room. Dorien had never met the Alpha King. He didn’t know who he was, but he knew the Whitehall uniform, and he knew the stance of a pack Alpha.

Once. "Antonio Romano." He said the name the way you say something you are about to destroy. Quietly. Almost gently. "He's getting bold.” “I will gut him like a fucking animal and burn all his trucks while at it.” He straightened his jacket, tugging the sleeves into place before lifting his eyes to Vito. "Get the car." "Frank." Darius stepped forward from the corner where he had been standing so quietly. "If you go down there personally—"

The team was hand-selected by Colonel Benton-Jones, and Archer was there to lead the Tactical Team into missions that were kept out of the public eye. “You alright man?” Johnson asked Archer, snapping his fingers in front of his face. “Huh? Yeah. Sorry.” He shook his head. Johnson sat back on the chair, he was tall in stature, his black hair was shaved short on the sides but long on top. Johnson was one of the drone operatives, someone Archer trusted with his life. Observant down to the millimetre, he valued him as a mate as well as part of his team. His confidence oozed out of him, he had the ability to changes someone’s mind with one word or look.

The traitor ruthlessly brought a Swiss knife down on the hand of Dawn’s most trusted bodyguard when he spoke out against the turnover for leadership. “Dawn is missing. He’s a brat who knows how to come home if he knows what’s best for him. Until then, the group needs to be in the hands of someone more experienced and responsible. Who else could take on the role of the group’s don except for me, the adviser of two dons?” Clenching his jaw tightly, Dawn stewed in a fury, seeing red as the bloody scene played out. The traitor had the nerve to claim what wasn’t his and hurt those he cared about!

"The Don went to save Miss Leone. You can scream yourself hoarse. It won't help." "Everyone knows you've always had it out for Miss Leone. How do you think the armory blew up? We're not blind." "You'd better pray Miss Leone's fine. Otherwise, Don Galante will be the first to come for you." The pain in my abdomen surged, heavier and sharper than before. Something warm spilled down my thighs and soaked into my skirt. I tried to move. I tried to drag myself farther from the collapsed area. A loose chunk of stone fell from above and slammed straight into my pregnant belly.

Darius waved for her to move closer to him seated behind the dark brown and white mahogany desk. “You called for me sir.” Alina said, her tone clipped and formal. She always talked formally to Darius, despite his instructions that she was a special exception. Alina was his goddaughter and he wanted her to treat him more like a father than a boss, which she just couldn’t bring herself to. Darius Andersen was Florida's Mafia Don. The biggest and most feared in America. “I see you've taken care of the senator.” Darius nods towards her dirty self. Not like he particularly cared about appearance. The only thing he cares enough about is that the job gets done. Something Karl couldn't do, apparentl

LIA'S STEPMOTHER “You got my note,” he says. “I read it,” I reply. His mouth twitches. We sit across from each other at the table. No small talk. “You shouldn’t have passed it on,” he says. “That makes you visible.” “You shouldn’t have sent it,” I say. “You know what happens if the dons hear this,” he says. “They won’t ask who told them.” “And you think they’ll spare you?” I ask calmly. “You’re the one who knows first.”

The groans of the injured echoed faintly against the marble walls. And in the middle of it, him. Nolan. Standing tall, chest heaving, blood soaking his shirt. His eyes were still sharp, searching the room as though he refused to let his guard down even now. He was tending to a few who are wounded. He was taking care of them, making sure that they were all right. He was helping out with lifting anything that was heavy. But I saw it. The way his left shoulder hung wrong. The deep gash along his collarbone, still dripping. He was doing his best not to show, but I knew that it hurts him. I had seen the way the rogue bit him.

Day 16 : Dinner with the Sergeant She got up from bed and forced herself to walk out of the room, she slowly opened the door and she was dazzled by the sunlight, she walks along the hallway of the camp, from here where she was standing she saw Sergeant Herrera and his other colleagues who were busy with what they were doing and repairing the damaged due to the explosion. She walks slowly to reach to the place of Sergeant, but at that moment she feels pain from her head, she felt dizzy and her vision was fading.