Silverback The Order Novels & Stories

My shout echoed in the barren space. Rain held a finger to her lips and shushed me. “Don’t wake the others.” I hadn’t realized until then that there were several other nests like the one I had sprung out of. Each nest had two or three sets of breaths coming from them. “You also don’t want to attract the attention of anyone upstairs. Trust me. Apparently, there is some big prophecy that revolves around one of us, or so I gleaned from passing conversations that I listened in on. They say that the Silverwolf is the alpha of all alphas and that if they can mate her and control her, then there would be no one to stop them." She glanced up at the sliver of light from the door, fear sliding across

"The Obsidian Pack is a protectorate of the western borders. To put an Alpha in his own dungeons is a violation of the Treaty of Silver." "The Treaty of Silver protects wolves, Magnus," Dmitry said, his voice dangerously low. "It does not protect rabid dogs who use royal-grade poison on a matriarch of the First Blood." A collective rustle went through the council. Heads leaned together, hushed whispers breaking out like dry leaves scraping across stone.

"Kill them." Veronica’s voice was soft, almost polite, as if she were requesting a specific vintage of wine rather than ordering a massacre. But the effect was instantaneous and catastrophic. The air in the Great Hall seemed to thicken, charged with a static that made the hair on my arms stand straight up. The fifty members of the Silver Creek Pack—my friends, my family, my neighbors—didn't stand up one by one. They moved as a single, tidal wave of flesh and bone, synchronized by the hive mind of Morana’s dark magic.

Elias left the office with his awareness humming low and steady, the system rearranging itself around him in subtle ways. He understood now that fracture did not always announce itself as chaos. Sometimes, it arrived as order, claimed by the wrong hands.

This was the dark space John had taught her to navigate—the parts of the web where identity was a choice, not a fact. The keys clacked softly. Access Granted. She was in. The Silas Enterprises main server was a labyrinth of firewalls, but she wasn’t looking for the vault. Not yet. She needed a match to start the fire. She bypassed the financial records and dove into the logistics manifests. There it was. Shipment 909: Silver-tipped ordinance. Destination: The Northern Border. A cruel irony. Abram was selling silver—the very thing that could paralyze his own kind—to keep the peace.

"She smells of old ink and terror. Tell me, little Scribe, can you see the way we all die just by touching our wine glasses? Or is your gift as limited as your lifespan?" I felt a surge of cold anger. These weren't just mobsters; they were nightmares in silk ties. I reached out and picked up my silver fork, feeling the history of the metal—the hands that had polished it, the mouths it had fed, the secrets whispered over it. "I see enough," I said, my voice projecting with a strength I didn't know I had. I looked Ligeia straight in her iridescent eyes. "I see that this silver was mined from a grave. And I see that the woman sitting across from me is deathly afraid of the dark. Is that why you

It yelped and staggered back. Eric joined in seconds later, finishing it with a clean slash. "Good swing," he grinned through blood-stained teeth. My lungs burned. My body shook. But I was still standing. When the dust settled, four rogues lay dead. One escaped. The others limped away, broken. I collapsed to my knees, shaking uncontrollably. Ryker stood over me. "You disobeyed orders," he said. I looked up, barely able to breathe. "I froze."

These weren’t rogues; their movements were too disciplined, their auras too strong, radiating the authority of pack wolves. “Damn it,” Silvia cursed under her breath as they surrounded us, at least ten of them, maybe more lurking out of sight. From the corner of my eye, I saw our girls forming a tight line, their bodies tense, waiting for Silvia’s command. One of the wolves shifted into human form, and my stomach dropped. I recognized him instantly—a warrior from Silver Fang, though I didn’t know his name. His grin was smug, his voice dripping with arrogance as he spoke. “We don’t want to kill you all,” he said, his eyes locked on me. “We want Ashley. Hand yourself over, and we’ll let your r

"About time you woke up. Some of us have actual work to do." "Yeah, yeah, I just needed a power nap," Carson replied, his mouth twitching. "Bring me up to speed." Alexei dragged over a chair, clearly knowing better than to suggest Carson rest first. "So here's the situation. Marcus Silverclaw is neck-deep in this Pure Blood Order crap. Not just involved—he appears to be one of their main guys." "Not exactly shocking news," Carson muttered. "I saw him barking orders at the northern compound." "What is shocking," Alexei continued, "is how far their claws have already sunk in. We've identified cells in at least five territories, including infiltrators in three pack leadership structures."