The Executioner #1 Novels & Stories

I saw Calhoun occupied, tearing into a wolf, and then I saw him. The Executioner. He was rising from the dirt, his silver mask cracked, his movements slow and predatory. Jinx was distracted, her back turned as she spoke to Calhoun. She looked so human in that moment, beautiful yet vulnerable despite the light leaking from her skin. The Executioner pulled a hidden dagger, the blade coated in a shimmering, oily purple toxin. He didn't go for Calhoun. He went for the prize. He went for Jinx. Time didn't just slow down, it stopped.

I’m pure, cold intent. He thinks he can just come back. The audacity of it is breathtaking. He thinks he can waltz back into my Keep, after three weeks of silence, after leaving me to face the Council and the whispers alone? He thinks he can drag some prisoners in and I will fall to my knees in gratitude? I’m going to kill him. I sweep down the spiral staircase, my coat billowing behind me. Guards flatten themselves against the walls as I pass. They see my face and they look away. That’s wise. I’ve been a fearsome Alpha these past weeks, but today I’m something even worse. The Executioner.

"The system that called these things crimes is the system I fought. I would fight it again." The official moves on quickly, which is the correct response to a statement that is landing better than Parliament wanted it to land. The executioner is a Parliamentary vampire of the specific kind that institutions produce, someone whose function has become their identity, someone for whom the stake in their hand is simply the instrument of their role rather than a choice they are making. They position themselves with the professional precision of someone who has done this before.

The people I have helped in one way or the other to get out of trouble. Then there was my mate and Anna kissing each other's sweetly as the executioner raised the blade up and in slow motion began to bring it down aiming for my long white neck

My body still felt the phantom heat of his touch, my pulse still stuttering from the way he’d looked at me before the world fell apart. I paced the length of the room, my bare feet silent on the cold hardwood. The "Executioners." I knew the stories. They weren't just soldiers; they were the Council’s cleanup crew, shifters who had long ago traded their humanity for the silver-clad authority of the High Wolf. If they were here, it meant the trial was a formality they intended to bypass. A soft, rhythmic scratching came from the service door near the dressing area. I froze, my hand darting to the heavy glass decanter on the sideboard. I gripped the neck of it, ready to swing. The door creaked

"If he turns it... the null-field will collapse the core entirely." The first vanguard executioner reached our level, his heavy, gold-embossed crimson armor scraping against the blue ice face as he rappelled down the thick hemp rope. His face was hidden behind a featureless, polished brass visor that reflected the cold, dead gray of the sky. In his right hand, he held a heavy, short-bladed executioner’s iron, its edge notched and dark with the stains of old palace purges. He didn't speak; he merely swung his boots outward, using the momentum to drive his heavy, spiked heels directly toward Killian’s pinned lower legs, intending to shatter the Alpha’s joints just as Vane had commanded.

"The pup with the type-O blood that you conducted the paternity test on was someone I found at the orphanage," I explained. "I laid a trap in the Blackrock pack's medical center a long time ago. The moment Faith gave birth to your pup, I switched him out for someone else." Felix's stiff body began twitching slightly when he heard what I said. I lifted my hand and pointed at the pup with the pallid complexion in Faith's arms.

Elara spoke. “Silence!” The Executioner spoke. The Executioner happens to be the lead warrior in the Prosecutors’ army during the Great Battle of the Sirens. He is the first warrior to eliminate 4 million sirens as a warlord. No one dared to speak before him unless asked to. “Who asked you to speak before the board?” The Executioner continued. “You don’t seem to understand women, Executioner; that is why you were never blessed with a mate.” The elder of legacy spoke.

“Tunnels.” “Tunnels?” Margie repeated, shaking her head. “There are tunnels underneath the old Capitol Building. Elliott thinks we can use them to sneak into the building.” “I don’t think. I know,” he said, his voice booming louder than the other noises. “We got this, Marge.” She nodded. “All right. I hope so. Because I received word that the execution will be tonight at midnight.” “Midnight?” Scott repeated. “Why midnight?” “Who the hell knows?” Margie said with a shrug. “Because Crimson Crotch is a fucking idiot.”

"The killer is back." I kept my face still. "What killer? Who? What happened?" She looked at me like I was the only person in the world who could save her. "Felix. Felix is dead." I let my face fall. Confusion. Shock. The face of someone hearing terrible news for the first time. "Which Felix?" I asked, even though I already knew. She shook her head, crying harder. "Felix Rivers. The pack's financial advisor. He's dead. He was found, torn to pieces at a run down hotel"