Sniper X Scout Novels & Stories

The plan is simple: hit hard, end it fast, give them nothing to report. The first scout appears between the trees as a pale blur. I close the distance and take him down before he can raise a weapon. Claws tear through his throat. He drops without a scream. Black veins are already crawling across his face—the sickness is still active in their ranks. Gunfire cracks to my left. Maddox drops the second with two precise silver rounds. The third tries to break for higher ground. An enforcer intercepts and drives him into the dirt. The fight is ugly and short.

He scoots back to his friend, who is staring at us both in awe. I slide my gun out of the holster, checking to make sure there's no damage to it. A quick scan shows the group is taking care of the small horde of zombies without my help. There's only a couple left, and between Reese's sniper skills and Ryder's direction, the zombies go down one by one until there's only one left. Before Ryder can bring his gun up, an arrow embeds itself through the zombie's skull, dropping it like a rock at Ryder's feet.

When I came home after the New Year, my college classmates organized a reunion. A lot of them were already married. Some even brought their kids along. When they found out that Tristan Moreno and I still hadn't tied the knot, our class president, Mason Hopkins, looked less than pleased. He pressed us for a wedding date. "We're undecided." "1st of October." Tristan and I spoke simultaneously. He turned to me sharply, his frown creasing his brows. His expression darkened as he stared at me, and confusion and irritation flickered in his gaze.

Teeth closed in on my neck, and I braced myself for the end. It didn’t come. The weight disappeared in an instant, and I rolled onto my back, gasping. Riley stood there, half-shifted. His claws glinted in the rain, his eyes glowing feral. “Run,” he said, his voice guttural, barely human. I didn’t think. I grabbed Scout, cradling his limp body as I stumbled toward the truck. Pain seared through my side, but I kept going, my breath ragged.

Anna moved from behind the sniper gun she was setting. Brianna just needed the sniper gun to get a grip on her target. She did not bring the whole of it. And it wasn’t the gun she would use in case she gets the information she needs from Jack Foster. The one she brought with her today was an airsoft sniper gun, a Novsitsch SSG10 A3 airsoft sniper gun, with only a short barrel, bipod, and sniper scope. There was no butt pad, so the long gun wasn’t that long as usual, and there was no magazine, no ammo, too.

And I did. A shiver shot down my spine. My blood ignited. My fangs grew sharper. Mason was no longer just a looming threat. He was making his claim. I sensed Sienna’s footsteps approach, silent but urgent. “Do you recognize the scout?” she asked, her voice low and tense. “Riker. Trained alongside me as a kid.” I kept my gaze fixed ahead. “He had a mate and two pups.” “Gods.” Her voice trembled before hardening with determination. “How close to the territory line?”

Scouts froze mid-step, waiting for orders, knowing instinctively that Zade and Xander’s presence meant no hasty action—only calculated response. The first figure emerged fully from the tree line—a scout from Ironclad, masked and armored, weapon drawn, testing distance. Zade’s muscles coiled, not to strike, but to observe, to measure. Xander’s eyes met his, and the tension between them wasn’t just professional anymore. It was primal, raw. Both understood the danger of misstep—not only from Ironclad, but from the magnetism that had been growing stronger since that night in the archives when lines blurred between fear and desire.

He shifted in time to avoid being seen by him or the sniper, both no more than two hundred feet away. The sniper kept his attention on his Colt M4 rifle with the detachable suppressor and adjusted his sights. The spotter's lips moved as he spoke quietly to the gunman. The pair should never have allowed Alexus to get this close, but they didn't know. He'd leave behind the team, and soon it would be all over. For them. Alexus started to move again. The sniper's body tensed as if sensing something. Alexus froze. The spotter disappeared from view. A moment later, the sniper swung his sights on Alexus.

The healer pushed forward, but the scout clawed weakly at the earth, forcing himself upright as if his body refused to die until the words left his mouth. His gaze lifted. It locked onto Ronan. Then it flicked to the elders. Then, finally, it landed on Morrigan. His expression twisted, not with fear, but with something worse. Betrayal. “Stop…” the scout rasped. Elder Soren stepped forward, impatient. “This is sacred ground. Remove him.” The scout coughed again, blood staining his lips. “No,” he choked out. “I have to." Morrigan’s voice remained calm. “He is delirious,” she said gently. “The poor wolf is injured.”

I said as I looked the man over once before turning to Kane, he opened his mouth but Aramis spoke first, my attention going back to him. “Hunters are an elite squad within wolf packs. Similar to Scouts in their skill set but more prone to apprehension and elimination. Think of us like Bounty Hunters while Scouts are trackers and protectors. Hunters are the elite of the elite and we are the only pack that has them.” He explained, his confidence and hubris apparent when he spoke of them. I raised an eyebrow and nodded slowly, impressed but still suspicious of the wolf in question. There was just something about him that didn’t sit right with me.