Seven Targets Novels & Stories

Victory had cost them. "We split our forces," Eriksson proposed. "Four teams, four locations." "We don't have enough experienced operatives," Morozova countered. "Spread too thin, we lose all four engagements." "Then we prioritize," Lord Konstantin suggested. "Which targets are most critical?" Anya had been listening silently, her tactical mind already working through scenarios. Now she spoke: "We can't prioritize. Project Seventh designed this as a coordinated attack specifically so we'd have to choose. Pick Geneva, they succeed in Cairo. Pick Cairo, they win in Singapore. We save three, they win with the fourth. And winning even one objective gives them what they want... supernatural-human

He moved like a man who hadn’t slept in days, one hand wrapped around a glass of untouched scotch, the other sliding pieces across a map covered in pins, routes, red circles, and names written in ink that would soon be soaked in blood. The Moretti estate was quieter than usual, but not in a peaceful way. It was the quiet before detonation—the lull in sound before the city started screaming again. The guards were tense. The phone lines were silent. And outside the gates, enemies were stacking like shadows. Everyone knew war was coming. The only question left was when. “I counted sixteen targets that matter,” Alessio said finally, voice low, focused. “All on Vitale’s payroll. Three families pr

If my tiredness vanishes after this song, then I might include it before we wrap everything up in this karaoke session. "Just like nicotine, heroin, morphine. Suddenly, I'm a fiend and you're all I need. All I need. Yeah, you're all I need. It's you, babe. And I'm a sucker for the way that you move, babe. And I could try to run, but it would be useless. You're to blame. Just one hit of you, I knew I'll never be the same."

They’re about to step into something dangerous, and the shift in their demeanor is forceful. "We have a list of two hundred and fourteen primary targets," Kir starts, his voice dropping into that lethal, commanding register that goes straight to my groin. "Buyers. Traffickers. The architects of the syndicate. They’re scattered across six continents." He taps the side of the black duffel bag. "The problem with a hit list is predictability," Kir explains.

"Then we work faster. Lyra, get Continental Council mobilizing security to all known facilities. Garrett, interrogate prisoners for target information. Sebastian, use whatever prophecy techniques you have to predict likely targets. Everyone moves now." The next twenty-four hours blurred into frantic preparation. We identified seventeen of the twenty target locations through various intelligence methods. Three remained unknown—gaps in our knowledge that could mean death for students we couldn't warn. I split coalition resources, sending security teams to all seventeen confirmed targets while keeping mobile rapid response ready for the three unknowns if we could identify them in time. "This is

Tom pointed at the barren apartment. “Eve and Jordan have seven years of history together. “We’ve all seen how Eve’s been with Jordan these past seven years.”

Because I was feeling too much of it and the only way to stay upright was to keep my voice level. He is healthy, Caden said. The family who has him are good people. Theron vetted them himself. Finn does not know yet. They were told to wait until contact was made through official channels. He has been waiting for me to come, I said. Theron. This whole election, the letter, all of it. He engineered it. He created the conditions, Caden said carefully. He could not force you to move. He could only make the information available and hope you were ready.

​New York. Xavier's Penthouse. Thursday. 11:47 AM ​Xavier was already deep into a call with Nadia before Scarlett had even finished her second round of logistics. The penthouse had shifted from a residence into a tactical assembly floor. Margot had somehow manifested a fourth monitor—a tablet propped precariously against the backsplash—running the Apex-7 documentation in a scrolling waterfall of data that sat parallel to the seventeen-name verification and the grand jury procedural requirements she’d been researching for the last hour in a silent, caffeinated fury.

again. He could only listen to me. “Where’s my phone?” Brody set aside his work. “I forgot to tell you. When you fainted, you broke your phone.” His expression was calm. “I’ll buy you a new one later.” “I see.” I said nothing else after that. He wanted to burn all of my bridges, huh? But he never expected that I would one day recover all of my memories and stop him from manipulating me. While I was planning to borrow a phone from someone after Brody left, he said, “Be good. Once I’m done with work, let’s move abroad.”

A lot of people have always wanted to be like the seven known mysterious brothers in the United States. Most of them took the seven as their Idols and set them as their goal target in life. Some even want to be in their shoe but no one knows the real pain it takes to be a Luther and the danger they have to go through to become what they are today. My mother called me three weeks ago in a panic and asked where I was because she was aware that I was dating one of the brothers. When I picked up she took in a breath so deep that I could still remember it today. She thought I died in the bombing too but I told her that I wasn't in the country with Ace, she was happy that Ace wasn't amongst the de