The Mercenary Novels & Stories

' Caedance asked in my head. I was too on edge to even reply. I carefully smelled the air around me in an attempt to identify their scents. 'They're not human. Definitely wolf. But wilder.' I say to Caedance. 'Shit!' Caedance yelled in my head. 'What? What's wrong?' 'They're mercenaries.' 'What does that mean?' 'Mercenaries are rogues for hire. They have no morals and are basically like the werewolf equivalent of bounty hunters or hitman. All jobs have a price. They don't ask questions and only demand that they're paid for their work.'

The eagle standing on the steward's shoulder suddenly flapped its wings and streaked across the sky like a white lightning bolt. "This brat is going to get into trouble." A mercenary gloated. The veterans had seen many unruly mercenaries being torn to pieces by the saint-level eagle. They already considered the teal-robed young man a dead man. In order to invade the new world, the Black-blood Dragon Mercenary Troop had recruited quite several newbies. These newbies would surely be regarded as cannon fodder. They were very unruly and tended to disobey instructions. It was time to warn them by punishing one of them.

Then, a person covered head to toe in grime climbed out, hastily crying, "Hey, wait! This is all a misunderstanding! Don't attack, okay? I'm coming out right now!" After wiping the dirt off his face, Andrew finally saw him clearly. He was a skinny man with torn combat gear, and blood was still seeping from his shoulder. His appearance was shifty, and his eyes kept darting over Andrew. "You're a wasteland mercenary?" Andrew saw through him and asked directly. The man immediately forced a dry laugh. "Sir, you have sharp eyes. Yes, I am Jeremy Kramer from the Lone Wolf Mercenary Group." Andrew asked again, "Since you are a mercenary, why were you hiding in a grave? Were you looking for corpses

But before I can speak, Ben continues, his voice softer. “We’ve grown fond of Mercy,” he admits, his gaze meeting mine. “We’d hate to see someone with so much potential destroyed by a war she should’ve never been a part of.” As angry and defensive as I feel, I can’t deny the truth behind what they’re trying to say. I took a good girl, a pure soul, and I dragged her into the filth and darkness of this world. I tainted her, corrupted her. And for what? For power? For control? For the empire my father built on blood and violence?

"It could be Nate, but it is most definitely not the Norvanian military." She started panicking. Did Nathan come alone to get himself killed? Outside the warehouse, there was smoke everywhere, and gunfire continued incessantly. Mick was joining the fight with his subordinates. One of them approached the pair with a machine gun and asked, "Where is your weapon, Daniel?" "Who are they?" he asked solemnly. "Mercenaries." The corner of his lips turned up. He couldn't use the Norvanian military, so he paid to hire mercenaries instead.

Marcus noted, his demeanor shifting instantly from victim to soldier. "Mercenaries," Jack said, examining the print. "And they aren't hiding."

Yet he crossed the distance within seconds with another human being as added weight. ‘Another human being?’ She’d caught the servants’ idle talk of rumors and prominent figures during the wars—of how some of them had surpassed the realm of humans and were deemed monsters clad in human skin. ‘He’s a monster.’ His other companions were down for the count, but they must be monsters in their own right as well. Sylvia shivered, remembering the name of the mercenaries who stood out in the war—the Mercy Mercenaries—a group of elites on par with the kingdom’s best.

He thinks he’s just another game, another conquest, another name on a long list of men I’ve used and discarded. He’s not. He’s entirely different. Everyone else? They came willingly. Most of them made the first move, throwing themselves at me like I was something worth chasing. It was never difficult, never a challenge. They saw me, knew my name, knew my family, and they wanted in. They didn’t give a fuck about me. They wanted the lifestyle, the power, the reputation that came with being the guy who fucked the Don’s son. Mercer isn’t like them.

"Outsiders. As in–" "Mercenary packs." He says grimly. "The ones that sell their loyalty to the highest bidder." Bingo! One mystery solved. Everything was beginning to make a bit more sense now. The thought still makes my blood run chill. Rogues we could deal with. But mercenaries? That's organized warfare. "Who would want to go this far just to get me?" I mutter. Lucien shoots me a side eye. "You're a pretty big deal. Lots of enemies, not enough fans."

The mercenaries are well-equipped, wearing heavy dark plate armor and wielding enchanted weapons that hum with malicious, synthetic energy, proving they are elite killers dispatched by our worst enemies. I leap off the stairs and land directly onto the back of a mercenary, my daggers slicing through his dark armor to reveal a brand of Dawn Mercer’s crest on his neck. The man lets out a choked gasp as my blades find the seam in his plating, and as he collapses forward onto the blood-soaked flagstones, the parting cloak reveals the unmistakable mark.