Survivalist Path Cold Blooded Novels & Stories

"Jarrah, those are the medical supplies for the southern camps! They’re destroying everything!" My blood ran white-hot. My hand dropped to the heavy brass hilt of the blade at my hip. Every instinct wired into my bones, every lesson taught to me by the brutal survival of the Calaby underworld, screamed at me to tear down the stairs and paint the dock floor with their entrails.

“Did you try them too?” He nodded. “I have no choice. That’s what we called survival 101.” He winked with a cheeky smile. “It’s understandable. Even feral cats hunt for mice and birds to eat. Without a source of heat, what distinguishes us from animals?” His finger gestured to a gun sign. He aimed it at the bonfire in front of us. “Exactly, Quinn.” We both smiled, and he subsequently stood up and stretched his body. “I need to shit somewhere.” He looked at the dark bush ahead, and I pressed my lips together.

Hell is too cold to scald his skin and the same way he did to the poor women. With the remaining strength in my trembling legs, I walked out of the cottage and the stepped out into the open. Beta Aaron was there, attempting to separate the badly burnt dead bodies from the injured ones. “There are no survivors,” he called out the instant he saw me, straightening up. “Dante has done it again, the blood wolf has struck again.” Aaron bent down again and started separating the dead bodies with his hands. “I'm trying to see if there are any babies or small children who are managed to at least survive. But wait…”

‘Shit! Untying his hands, I pulled him up, Putting his arm around my neck, and stumbled back out the basement, Up the stairs, and out the building. He was heavy, but I tried with all my strength to get him safely in the car. With him securely in the passenger seat, He was still out cold. I hurried to my boot and pulled out a bag of blood from the cooler. The first rule of surviving, Always have a small supply of blood in your car, just in case of an emergency and thank fuck I did!

The frigid air that bit painfully at her fingers and nose made the depressing confines of their basement prison (nicknamed the den by the girls) seem wonderfully warm and cosy and Chloe closed her eyes, imagining herself tucked under the layers of blankets and clothes she buddled onto her cot to help keep her warm. This wasn't the first time they had been subjected to cruel and unusual punishments at the whim of their Alpha. If anything, this was probably the least humiliating or dangerous. Being a werewolf certainly gave them the advantage of warmer body temperatures and better endurance. If she was human, Chloe was certain she'd have died from hyperthermia by now. However, that didn’t mean

There, under the shelter of the mountains, as far away from the sun as possible he had managed to survive over the years, forcing himself to feed on the blood of animals and not kill anymore. After all, the last thing he wanted was to be hunted again. But at this very moment, there is someone looking for him, he feels it, his blood tells him so. Since he left his castle in London together with his gang

No permanence. Only movement. The Sub-Zero trenches had become their refuge—long, narrow cuts carved into the frozen earth, covered with scavenged steel and ice slabs. They slept beneath the ground like corpses waiting to be buried properly. When they hunted, they did it fast. Brutal. Efficient. Raw meat. Still steaming in the cold. Because smoke meant death. Drone strikers patrolled the skies now—silent hunters that scanned for heat signatures. One flame, one flicker of warmth, and missiles would fall like divine judgment.

" A surge of warmth spread through my body, and I could feel my muscles rippling with power. I clenched my fist and threw a quick punch that cut through the air with a sharp gust of wind. Perfect. The first night of the apocalypse was off to a peaceful start, but I couldn't let my guard down because something even more terrifying would come after the freezing doomsday—the zombie outbreak. People who froze to death on the side of the road would soon stand back up with twisted limbs and bite anything they saw. Garrett's family was surprisingly lucky. They managed to ditch the car and retreat to their high-end apartment complex, but the water, power, and gas were cut. All that fancy interior de

Winter in the mountains is a thing of brutal beauty. The snow falls with an almost ceremonial precision, layering itself across the landscape in progressively deeper drifts. The mornings are bitter cold—cold that seeps into your bones and makes you question whether you'll ever feel warm again. But there's also a strange clarity to it, as if the cold strips away everything unnecessary and leaves you facing only what matters. Solace's training did that for us—stripped away the unnecessary and forced us to face what we actually were. Survivors, mostly. People who hadn't asked for the ability to fight, but found ourselves in a situation where that ability might be the only thing standing between

"I have known you for years on this team. You are not a monster. You protect people. Tell me about these laws you mentioned before." Kane paced a couple steps in the tight space. "Ancient laws. No human can ever know about us. If they find out, the council that enforces the rules steps in. They wipe memories or worse. Silence is the only way to survive." Elias nodded slowly. "Worse how? They kill people?" "They do what they have to," Kane said. "That is why I never told anyone. One slip and it ends bad for everyone involved." Elias stepped a little closer. "Then why tell me now?"