The Bad Guys Crimson Paw Novels & Stories

Raised and animated by the Crimson Sun's vile magic. Adrien skidded to a halt at the edge of the clearing. All the rage drained from his face, leaving behind a hollow, gut-wrenching pain. He knew them. He saw the faces of wolves he'd likely grown up with, trained with, laughed with. Now reduced to puppets for his enemy's cruel theater. The Sounder fell silent, his task complete. The only sound was the faint creak of leather and armor as the animated corpses turned their blank, crimson eyes toward us.

However, a new threat emerged from the shadows – whispers of a rogue pack, operating independently, yet somehow connected to the Crimson Fang’s machinations. This rogue pack, known only as the Shadow Stalkers, remained elusive, their movements swift and silent. They struck with brutal efficiency, targeting isolated outposts and supply lines, disrupting the fragile peace that had settled over the land. Their methods were different from the Crimson Fang’s frontal assaults; their attacks were calculated and precise, suggesting a high level of tactical skill and an intimate knowledge of the terrain. The few survivors of their attacks spoke of terrifying speed, almost supernatural agility, and a

Since then, her heart belonged only to him. From her story, I sensed the desperation of many omegas to have Alpha Caleb. It felt like a competition. I knew Alpha Caleb was good in bed, but I couldn't be with a man who slept casually with so many women. I couldn’t bring myself to tell her I was an Alpha’s daughter. Instead, I told her I was just an omega from the Crimson Pack. She said she knew the Crimson Pack well because her late mother had also served there as an omega. One morning, I overslept because I had worked all through the night.

You'd think after seventeen years, I'd be used to it. You'd be wrong. "Aria Blackwood," I read aloud, tracing the elegant calligraphy with my thumb. No one in Pine Hollow received mail with such beautiful writing. Hell, most of us were lucky if the bills arrived without coffee stains. The return address made my blood turn to ice: Crimson Moon Academy. "No," I whispered, my hands starting to shake. "No, no, no." But there it was, the official seal pressed into blood-red wax—a crescent moon wrapped around a wolf's head. Everyone knew what that meant. Every human between seventeen and nineteen knew what that meant.

Saphira had checked the trails for traps. But it wasn’t enough. Because the Crimson Pact didn’t come from the woods. They came from beneath. It started with a shudder in the earth. Then, a rumble. Before Elara could signal the alarm, the road split beneath them — stone and soil exploding upward in a geyser of dust and bone. Screams followed. Horses reared. The Warriors fell. Then came the shrieks. Not human. Not even Lycan. They were twisted things — Pact-forged monsters with flesh like tar and eyes like bleeding stars. Vampiric hulks, fused with black magic and bound in barbed armor. Their claws could rend steel. Their scent was rot and rage.

He had been one of the most wanted serial killers in history, which alone was a significant title, judging by the lengths he had gone. "I need the image fast, Malcolm. I need to find whoever had done this..." I said as Malcolm nodded, sketching the man's image further. I sat down as some minutes passed by, with my eyes glancing around the paintings, knowing they were made with the victims' blood and were still the bestsellers on the market, with the buyers craving such paintings. "I'm done." A voice jolted me back as I watched Malcolm approach my side. "He seems really great for my taste, but it's sad that i can't have him, or can I, Dominic?" Malcolm questioned. But this man, whoever he was

Too bad for the criminal element, I used all my pent up energies and frustration hunting their asses. "Let's finish this then if you're happy with the goods, the boss will be waiting." I passed him the case full of money, which he passed off to one of the goons to be checked for authenticity. This shit was nothing like the movies. It took time and planning to be executed just right. These fucks took their business seriously, down to every last detail and they had the money and resources to carry it out. This fuck Mikhail Zubrinsky could buy and sell three third world countries and still be a multi billionaire.

I gestured a fake genuflection and walked out of the throne room. As I left, I could hear several murmurs and shouts from the cabinet members. But none of it concerned me. Tonight, I was rejecting Adrian. Moonlight came faster than I thought. And before I knew it, I was standing opposite the infamous Alpha Adrian Caul in the throne room. I still couldn't deny his striking handsomeness and the rugged appeal he had. But I knew better. Beneath all that was the most sick and twisted of all monsters. I inhaled and held my breath. "I, Crystal Grimme, do hereby reject you, Alpha Adrian Caul, as my mate"

The midnight skyline of Port Apex was obscured by a thick fog, turning the massive steel cranes into looming phantoms over the black water. Inside the glass-walled command center of Vance Enterprise, the air was sharp with cold air conditioning. Massive wall monitors glowed with real-time global trade routes, but three major digital corridors stretching from Singapore to Rotterdam had suddenly flashed from deep blue to a stark, ominous crimson. Victoria stood before the central map, a glass of untouched scotch resting in her palm. The amber liquid caught the harsh red glare of the screens. She had discarded her blazer, wearing a sleeveless midnight-black tailored vest over her crisp blouse.

“And this one’s older than the trees.” My heart was pounding. It felt like I was falling down a tunnel with no bottom. “So what? I’m supposed to believe I’m cursed now? That some psychotic wolf guy wants to kill me because of my last name?” Kael didn’t flinch. “Because of your blood. You’re Crimson-born. And that means something in this world.” I shook my head. “No. No, this isn’t real. None of this is. That thing I saw in my dream—”