Strike 1 Novels & Stories

Serenya caught it awkwardly, fumbling at first, before her grip adjusted. “First rule,” Thorne said, circling her now, his steps silent as death itself, “a strike is not about strength. It is about precision. You don’t need to shatter bones to win. You need to place one cut in the right spot. One puncture in the right vein. One strike that ends the fight before it begins.” “Sounds… grim,” Serenya muttered, but her eyes stayed locked on him. “Efficient,” he corrected. “Grim is bleeding out because you swung too wide. Efficient is walking away because you didn’t waste motion.”

“Count them. Ten for your bratty mouth. Miss one, we start over.” The first strike landed with a sharp crack, the sting blooming like fire across her left cheek. Jenna yelped, body jolting. “One! Thank you, Master!” The second hit harder, overlapping the first, sending jolts of agony-laced ecstasy straight to her clit. “Two! Fuck, thank you!”

stopped them. Glasses from the windows shattered as everyone ducked down. A lighting bolt strucked the street infront of the building and destroyed the lines. Electricity went out and a few seconds later, the emergency generator hummed and went into power as it left a few light bulbs on. Luna was cupping her hands to her ears as she evaded the shattered glass. She could still hear some ringing in her earlobes as she stood up. "What the hell?" "The fuck was that?!" "Oh my god..."

She shivered, this time not from the cold as the memories of the night before ran through her mind. I, Alpha…. Hereby banish you from this pack. From today, you are no longer one of us. For trying to kill your Pack. First thing tomorrow morning, pack up your belongings and leave the quarter” The look on the Alphas face was something Storm didn’t think she would ever forget. His cold eyes, his hard face, not flinching a bit as he laid heaps after heaps of false accusations on her. She had wailed. Her throat was still sore even.

I pull it out from one of the back pockets, at which the screen lights up, but my face slackens when I read the two messages on it from an unknown sender: 21:35 Stay away from Priscilla. 21:37 This is my first and last warning.

And in a war, the first strike belongs to the one who isn’t afraid to get his hands dirty. I was already on my way to get mine filthy.

“YOU TOOK HER—!! YOU—!! YOU—!!” Alexander’s jaw tightened. “I didn’t take anything. But if you touch her— if you hurt her—” His glow flared. A pulse rippled through the clearing. Jay stumbled back from the force. Alexander’s voice dropped into something feral: “—I will stop you.” Jay lunged. The First Strike Jay moved faster than anything human. He slammed into Alexander with enough force to throw him ten meters through the snow. Alexander hit the ground hard. Blood filled his mouth.

The first strike came without warning, a sharp, stinging crack across the seat of my sweatpants that made me gasp, my body jerking forward. “One,” I choked out, my eyes watering. “Good boy,” he murmured, and the praise, so incongruous with the pain, sent a shocking, jolt of heat straight to my groin. The second strike was harder, a white-hot line of fire across my ass. I yelped, tears springing to my eyes. “Two.”

“I told you, didn’t I? You’re playing my game now.” The First Strike Move. I dove to the side as another shot fired, rolling into cover behind a column. Shadows shifted around me. Three. No, four men. Armed. Waiting. Testing me. I exhaled slowly. If they wanted to play, I’d play. The first man moved—a flash of motion in the dark. I shot first. Direct hit. He crumpled with a strangled noise. The others reacted immediately, firing back. I pressed against the column as bullets shattered the marble around me.

Small but solid. “Ten strikes,” he tells me. “You’re going to count them. Thank me for each one. And when we’re done, you’ll have bruises that last for days. Every time you sit down, every time you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you’ll remember that you belong to me.” I bend over the table without being told. The first strike lands with a crack that echoes through the room. "One!" I gasp. “Thank you, sir!” He waits. Lets the sting build. Then –