Space Mercenary Novels & Stories

They had a smug look earlier, but it was completely replaced by a deep fear. Nash was shocked as he looked at the floor that was covered with the mercenaries' bodies. Then, his gaze became incomparably frightful as he looked at Liam. All those mercenaries were not just anybody. They were hired by Nash from another country with a hefty sum. However, all of them were killed by Liam in the blink of an eye. Was Liam not a useless man who married into his wife's family? Why would he have such terrifying ability and combat skills? The least skilled mercenary was at the level of a Second Order War King while the most skilled was at the level of a Fourth Order War King. However, they were all killed

“You have to do this for yourself, not for her. - I know that. Why hadn't I thought of that before? Jesus, he really didn't have a thought own. She laughed. “Your life is very complicated. I should live free and uncomplicated, the way I do. “Tempting. But it wasn't true. Yeah, maybe it would be fun to have an adventuring career and a But it wasn't true. Yeah, maybe it would be fun to have an adventuring career and a casual relationship with a girl like her, but only for a little while. one thing that What Matt really knew about himself was that he liked stability and long-term relationships. Safety, love, family. "Yes, of course," she teased. “Hey, our group is leaving us behind. All morning

"It's not old people. There's whispers of outside contractors. Professionals." Mercenaries. Elijah was bringing fucking mercenaries. I drained my whiskey, the burn doing nothing to calm the fury building in my chest. "How many?" "Enough." Marco shrugged. "More than a handful, less than an army. But all quality. The kind who don't miss." I needed more. Needed names, numbers, entry points. But before I could press further, Marco's expression changed—eyes widening slightly, his body tensing. "Silas. We've got company."

“Well. Pending funding, I assume.” My chest goes cold. She knows. “I’m not trying to invade your privacy,” she says quietly. “I’m explaining why I think you’ll stay when the others didn’t. You need this job. And I need someone who won’t quit the first time my son screams at them.” I look down at the paper. At my mother’s name printed there in black ink. At the diagnosis I’ve been trying not to think about. “The pay is twenty thousand dollars per month,” Katrina says. She taps a line on the contract. “Six months. One-twenty thousand total.”

Each card had a simple profile of Matthew and the chimaeras, a fake one that was. “The M.A is not so different from the H.A. They both hire trained people to deal with quests and jobs. The jobs in M.A are usually more dangerous and paid higher but unlike the H.A, they don’t have insurance. Mercenaries are pretty loose as well and mercenaries don’t really have a good reputation. Still, most of the top dogs like nobles or people with high status hire them to do their dirty work” Rain explained as they slowly proceeded at a slow pace. “They do dirty work, but they’re still legal?” Matthew questioned the logic in that. Why would a company with a bad reputation and did bad things still be allowed

"If she truly is a tribrid, that would explain so much." Vincent says. "Like what?" "Like why several mercenaries were hired to kill her." "Wait.. what? Mercenaries? How do you know for sure?" "All mercenaries are either rogue-born or ex-pack warriors. They are rogues for hire that have no moral ground. They will accept any contract. The only thing they ever care about is money. We were able to identify them through their strong wild scent. It's a smell most rogues have, however, Mercenaries are typically more subtle, as it allows them to enter a pack without being detected."

Haris asked. "Mercenaries," Marcus replied. "They scattered the moment the gas hit. They aren't loyal to a dead man. Without Dewangga’s bankroll, they’ll vanish back into the underworld." Serena closed her eyes, leaning her head back against the cushioned seat. The adrenaline that had kept her upright was beginning to ebb, replaced by a bone-deep exhaustion. She thought of Clarisa, safe in a house in Bogor, blissfully unaware that her mother had just walked through fire.

he sounded unimpressed. “You know, i found it quite amusing when you escaped to this country twelve months ago—” Alonzo's remaining eye widened in shock, making Nero grin animatedly, the mischievous dramatic mercenary was back in play. “Don't look so surprised. I’ve always known where you were. What did you take me for? An idiot?!” Nero rolled his eyes. “Come on, don't cry. You were once the Don of the Italian mafia. Come on, it's embarrassing.”

We ate our meagre soup in silence, the air thick with feigned despair. At eight o’clock, the heavy steel bolt on the door screeched open. A man I hadn’t seen before, mid-thirties, with dull brown hair and tired eyes, pushed the slop bucket inside. He was unremarkable, dressed in the same uniform as the others, but without the hard-edged military bearing. He was just a mercenary, a cog in Mia’s machine, clearly there for the money, not the cause. Perfect. He avoided our eyes, clearly uncomfortable with the silent, despairing tableau of women inside.

We were just outside the conference room when a voice called out. “Alpha Orion?” I turned, my brows furrowing as I took in the man standing a few feet away. He was tall, broad-shouldered, with the same commanding aura I recognized in seasoned Alphas. Something about him felt familiar, yet distant—like a name I should know but couldn’t quite recall. He smirked slightly. “You don’t remember me, do you?” I squared my shoulders. “And you are?” “Draven,” he said smoothly. “Alpha Draven. Alpha of Emberfang Pack.”