Space Mercenary Novels & Stories

And the most cataclysmic thing was, I was not afraid of having witness Madeline's murder. Yes it left an impact on me, I still shivered whenever her dead lifeless eyes drifted in my vision but.. I was more scared of Marienne. As soon as the the police enquiry session had come to an end, I ran straight to my flat, brought out my laptop and tried to find as much as information I could manage about them. And what I found about them wasn't shocking but still, it chilled me to the core. Marienne Carlisle Victor. A French-American businessman, who is best known for his ruthless statistics and strategies in the corporate world. Devilishly handsome looking but taken from at the age of 19. Well known

"She's a former sniper, dishonorably discharged, and was recently a suspect in a case down in Columbia along with this character." Once more the screen changed. A dark eyed man with tousled hair was captured walking down a street, facing a camera. "Damian Naraujo, who lives in El Paso. Naraujo on the surface is just a computer consultant, but we know of him because of his work in South America. He's a mercenary, people or companies hire him to take out competitors in emerging markets. Mostly tech, but he'll do anything for anyone at the right price." "And you think he's related all because of a dead body?" Priscilla wasn't sure she bought that. It was a leap. A big one.

a werewolf announced. Zane Drocco is a handsome lad carrying the title of being the oldest among them despite the clear skin and youthful appearance. He's had visions of the past, present, and future. He's also laid out several prophecies that turned out to be quite true, and everything he envisioned had come to reality. Apart from that, he is also the strongest warrior who led battles to victory in centuries. A literal knight in shining armour.

“You’re pimping me out?” “Don't use such ugly words, darling. It’s business. You’re already open to new experiences, right? Why not make it profitable? The Mercers are animals, but they pay well.” "That’s it," I roared. I didn't wait for Silas’s permission. I threw the car into drive and stomped on the gas. The engine roared like a beast awakening. The tires shrieked as I peeled away from the curb, closing the three-block distance in seconds.

Now, after forcing him to take her into the dark heart of Vancouver's lower East Side and telling a gut-wrenching story of pain and loss, she was acting like life couldn't be better. In the space of an hour she'd turned his entire world and everything he assumed upside down. Him. A man that used to kill for money, a fact she would never learn, despite being so generous with her own life story. After leaving the military he became a hired gun in the middle East, telling himself he was working on the side of good. Until the body count became too high to stomach, even for him. He'd started his security company with the nearly two decades of mercenary money and skills he'd picked up overseas.

Each one a reminder of the legacy I’ve inherited, the empire my family fought so hard to build. But what’s it worth in the face of her? “Tempting, isn’t it?” Santiago muses, breaking the stillness. “A clean slate.” I look up at him, my brow furrowing. He meets my gaze steadily, a knowing look on his face. “The deal Mercy made with the CIA,” he clarifies. “Full immunity. A chance to walk away from all of this.” He motions to our surroundings, the materialistic evidence of a legacy of blood and bullets.

"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."

I did it once during my time in Iraq. I have served for 12 years. My experience and connections gave me an upper hand to secure private combat contracts. People come to us when they need men with high combat skills. Mercenaries, as many call them, are professional soldiers for hire. They serve for the sole purpose of earning money. I like dealing with mercenaries. It gives me a sense of belonging. “I miss my time in the military,” I admit to Jonas ruefully while checking the files. He raises his brow at my sudden admission. “So you could shoot the fucker?”

“You gonna tell me what happened, kiddo?” “Maybe someday, Dad,” she admitted. “Maybe someday when it doesn’t hurt so much.” “Fair enough, honey. Just know you can always talk to me.” “I know,” she’d squeezed his hand. “I know, Daddy.” “There’s one thing I feel like you need to know, Sarah.” “What?” Marty hesitated, then looked into her eyes. “I talked to Patrick Fresco yesterday. Tim’s unit deployed to Afghanistan last week.” *** “Are we having fun yet?” Dack called down to Tim from the gunner’s turret as they rode.

“The guy with the tattoos on his arms,” I say. “He was here yesterday. Where is he?” “Martell?” Stefan asks. He looks over his shoulder. “He’s here somewhere, he never misses training.” “He’s not here,” Piper says, her voice grave. “Who is he?” I ask. “What are those tattoos?” “He’s a mercenary,” Piper explains. “Doesn’t belong to any particular pack. Hires out his skills in fighting, scouting, whatever.”