Stealthy Characters Novels & Stories

He won’t do it himself because of the fear that he might use too much force and unintentionally kill me. I preemptively cover my head, the kicks and punches will hail for an hour or more, but I now know how to fake unconsciousness. I even know how to fake a convulsion and hold my breath and pretend to be dying. That always stops them because like the prophet said, they can’t risk killing me. “Get her the fuck out of here,” Alpha Theo commands but Blake interjects before Brenda leaves to fetch the servants to carry me out. “I will take her, Your Highness,” Blake offers, sending a chilling feeling down my spine. He is one of Alpha Theo’s Gamma friends. I have heard horrific stories of what he

Leo whispered, his hand going to the jagged shard of Syndicate steel at his belt. ​"I see six," Elena’s voice was a ghost in his ear. "Wait... make that twelve. They’re using active camouflage, Leo. They’re blurring the air around them. They’re not Syndicate. They’re Colony Stalkers." ​The first Stalker moved with terrifying speed. One moment, there was nothing but the smell of ozone and wet pavement; the next, a blade of shimmering, vibrating plasma was inches from Leo’s throat. ​Leo didn’t move his head. He moved his center of gravity.

However, every great assassin who wanted to survive in the ruthless world had to learn it. Unlike them, Zen was a civilian. He had no killer instinct in his bones. It was a very different presence altogether. Bolt wasn’t wrong about Zen’s ability to attract trouble and stand out easily. There was a certain type of charm and charisma around his sworn brother. He had no idea if this was part of the true candidate’s ability, but Liu Feng felt that Zen wasn’t struggling because the invigilators were approaching stealth in the wrong manner. “Have you tried explaining what stealth is to him?” the blind teen asked.

I could feel his heart thumping against his rib cage. I moaned softly into his mouth, allowing him access to slip his tongue into my mouth which only made me moan louder. His fingers moving between cupping my face and neck and then down to brush over my cleavage. His hand never strayed further down, in a bid to not push me further than I was ready for. I found the gesture heart warming. It felt so unlike his general character, especially when his reputation was built on taking what he wanted and being ruthless in his pursuits.

"Bully," Anastasia pouted, her indignation evident as she punched my chest in response to the surprise. "Activate 'Stealth'," I whispered as my hand made contact with Anastasia, and in an instant, we vanished from the sight of all those around us. I stole a moment to study her serene face, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. While the others reveled in the guise of a typical hunting party, oblivious to the hidden truths, Anastasia alone understood the weight of this day for me.

New characters emerged, each with their own unique insights and abilities. One such character was Sirus, a reclusive scholar rumored to have deciphered ancient texts that held the key to the impending catastrophe. His abode was a remote tower nestled in the heart of an enchanted forest. The heroes ventured into this mystical woodland, guided by the faint glimmers of arcane symbols that marked the path.

Brandon stated. I KNEW IT!! Nobody can move that fast at a scene. Brad knows this area as he knows computers. Once he has his prey– he will strike. If he does get help, then everything will go smoother. “Holy shit, he’s a fucking genius. He is the ‘Silent Stalker,’ huh?”

Muscular and resolute, Liana’s steely gaze hinted at the countless battles she had endured, and her presence exuded an aura of raw, unbridled power. Next to Liana stood Rowan Blackthorn, a silent yet menacing figure known as the Shadow Reaper. His dark armor seemed to blend into the shadows, his movements quiet but deadly. Rowan was an assassin by trade, his abilities in stealth and precision killing unmatched in all of Somerland. He held a scythe in his hands that sent shivers to whomever looked at it.

A massive, black SUV—armored and sleek—skids to a halt on the gravel path. The engine dies. Silence descends, heavy and suffocating. The door opens. A man steps out. He isn't wearing the rugged flannels of a woodsman or the tactical gear of a pack enforcer. He’s in a charcoal suit that costs more than the Blackwood house. His aura isn't just Alpha; it’s something ancient. Something terrifying. It feels like a physical weight pressing the rogues into the dirt. The rogues don't fight. They tuck their tails and vanish into the trees, whimpering.

"Let Elian's devotion ignite the flames of our purpose." The hooded figures closed in, their whispers weaving a chilling chant. Tristan's senses heightened, attuned to the Order's dark energy. As Elian, he would navigate treacherous landscapes, walking the thin line between loyalty and deception. The shadows swallowed him whole, his true identity hidden behind a veil of lies.