Steve Rogers Imagines Novels & Stories

Anyone could be working for the doctors at the warehouse and they wouldn’t be able to tell until it was too late. Sensing her hesitation, Braxton shook his head, “Have a little faith, Red. I know a place. We’ll be safe and warm and no one will even know we are there.” “I’m not interested in places you’ve made up in your little fantasies, Braxton. We need real solutions. Actual help. If he can’t give that-” “Breathe.”

"We caught him and we need you to come with us." My frustration slowly faded into anger as I heard the word "rogue." Those damn rogues were always causing trouble, and it was my job as Alpha to take care of them. I quickly followed Michael out to where the rogue was being held. As soon as I saw the rogue, my blood boiled. He was struggling as they tied him up, his eyes wild with fear and desperation. But I felt no sympathy for him. He was a danger to our pack and he needed to be locked up.

Or is it just a contest in disguise set up to keep only the strongest? “Let's enjoy this peaceful feeling a little more; a little more will be gone,” Roger added. “That year, I went to Rose to rob another team’s flag, but I wanted to try and find it myself this time.” Evelyn pursed her lips. "Robbing someone else's act like it's proud." “My teammate, do you forget so quickly? When you rush out and hit other people, I can see that you are very excited.” Roger sarcastically. I laughed; imagining their appearance at that time was interesting.

He pushed to stand, but they were on him like lightning, holding him flat, talons gouging his limbs, crimson soaking into the earth. Steve’s expression contorted in agony, eyes flaring with fury, thrashing to break loose, but the rogues weighed him down, their mass crushing. My ticker skipped, terror freezing me solid, echoes of Liam’s power, his form wrapping mine in the sheets, worthless here as I stood rooted, witnessing Steve’s fight. In a swift, unified rush, the rogues piled on, talons ready, jaws snapping, their teeth a breath from shredding skin. Steve bucked, but the numbers overwhelmed, blows raining down, teetering him on the brink of the void.

As he screams out, I drive the dagger into his chest and he falls to the ground. In general, rogues are weaker than wolves that belong to a pack. They don't have the strength that comes from the unity of being in a pack. Wolves are social creatures, and their wolves weaken significantly without that bond to an Alpha. Many rogues are on their own for years before they join other rogues, so they weaken a great deal. However, just because these rogues are weaker, they have the upper hand right now. With just four more to go, I can feel my body becoming sluggish. All my energy sources have been depleted in the last five weeks and I'm just running on pure adrenaline at this point.

Come wintertime, and they would all be shivering from the cold. Roger absolutely did not wish to return to such living conditions again. If that were to be the case, he’d rather jump off the building from the eighteenth floor. Shayna Morrison, who stood nearby, was thoroughly shocked. She quickly went over to help Roger get up. “Mr. Graham, what are you doing? Isn’t he just some guy who depends on women for a living? Why are you even begging him on your knees? Can he even threaten Paradise Corp? People would die laughing,” she said.

A howl sounds some distance in the front, just at the same time a group of rogues leap out of the bushes. I spring into motion immediately, all my training kicking in. I knock the first one down just before he shifts into his wolf, wrapping the wire around his neck and pulling hard. Suddenly, the clearing is a battlefield. Weapons clash against weapon, rogues fall down. I roll to the side, avoiding the snapping of fangs as a wolf lands where I stood a second ago. From the corner of my eye, I see Ragnar watching it all from the sidelines, like a messenger of death himself.

Roger sat frozen, as if turned to stone. “Roger, who was that? Was it someone who can help us?” Gloria hurried over, her face full of desperate hope. Roger finally snapped back to himself. His bloodshot eyes were filled with shock and the fury of someone who felt stabbed in the back. “What is it? Roger, what’s wrong?” Gloria stared at him in alarm. The look on his face was so savage it was almost frightening. “Felix Gibson!” Roger spat the name out with a roar. “Mr. Gibson? Is he going to help us?” Gloria asked quickly.

“I have men that aren’t afraid to get their hands dirty if you need the assistance. I simply want to help.” I nod, and Roger shows him to the door. As soon as he’s gone, I pour myself a generous amount of scotch. Tough kid, rough around the edges even with all his posturing in that suit and expensive haircut. Certainly somebody I’d prefer to call an ally than an enemy. When Roger returns, he immediately launches into the earful he's dying to give me. “We didn't need him to tell us it was Jack. I think it was obvious from the beginning that he’s behind this shit.”

“Oh, you mean steroids? Wait; are you on steroids right now?” He punched the locker again. “Do you think you’re funny, Clark? Better tell me what’s going on with you?” I can see that his eyes were even more furious right now as if he is ready and willing to punch me. “What’s going on with me? Do you really wanna know?” Roger nodded. “Well, so would I! Last night, I had my most terrifying dream. I am in some kind of another world where slaughtering one’s throat truly existed. Then, there’s this Beast Lord who wanted to come after me.