Star Wars The Clone Wars Commander Cody Novels & Stories

"You should have stayed in command." Davis glances at Claude, and both quickly look from me to Henderson, who keeps a stern face, as if focused solely on the mission ahead. He is in command of the mission, and that’s how it’s going to stay even though he knows most of those present would have chosen me. I don’t care about that. I just want to move forward and complete the mission. After that, I can spend a month at home. I miss my mother and my younger brother.

The bandages stretched across her wound. “She doesn’t know the code! I can help you!” I yelled. “I can take the core to the Nest! Leave Sadira!” The second shock ended, but the silence that followed was far heavier. No gasping. No scream. Only total stillness. The cell door suddenly swung open with a metallic snap. The commander stood on the threshold, two armed soldiers behind him. Kain wasn’t there. The commander’s face was cold, but now it carried an expression—victory.

He must have decided to shift and search like the men he’d given orders to, because he chose that moment to reach down and tug the hem of his shirt over his head. Had Isabella been in human form, she would have had to stifle a gasp. The spine and musculature he revealed were rippled with sinew, but the scars were what stole her breath. Even in the dim glow of the moonlight, her wolf eyes allowed her to see. The commander’s body was a history of battles won and lost, wars waged on behalf of a supernatural empire. And then he turned around and Isabella’s breath caught. He wasn’t any commander. He was the commander. In an instant, she recognized exactly who he was. This cowboy wolf was none oth

a voice said, dripping with a subtle, sharp irony. Cillian looked up. Standing in the doorway was Commander Reed, a veteran of three border wars and a man who had served Lachlan’s father. Reed did not bow. He did not bare his neck. He simply stood there, his arms crossed over a chest scarred by silver-tipped claws. "And?" Cillian asked, trying to pitch his voice lower to command authority. "What do they say?"

Where they'd decided to hunt wolves for generations. The commander gestured to a chair. "Sit." I sat, hands folded to hide their trembling. Cole was placed across from me. Our eyes met in shared understanding. The commander settled at the head of the table, flanked by two officers—a sharp-eyed woman and a younger man with rigid bearing. "I am Commander Garrett. Second in command of the Order. These are Captain Reyna and Lieutenant Marks." I nodded to each. Garrett was neutral. Reyna skeptical but open. Marks openly hostile.

Acknowledging this reality, Tommy forged ahead, their collective resolve unwavering in the face of impending challenges. On the commander’s other side, however, obscured in the brush, his two warriors, chosen by his leader, Cavin, waited. The two took turns cloaking their massive apelike bodies. The commander was a bit of a hermit, preferring prayer and meditation to socialising with his warrior. A clash of interests burdened him. He adored his clan, and he only wanted to become a holy priest of their convent like Cavin. He longed for the security of his underground home. But he had been trained by Cavin for another mission as well, the sacred calling of feral exterminating.