Novel & Cerita The Merciless Ones

Lucas said that as he waved to his people, "Shoot them into sleeves." As he said that, and before his people raised the guns in their hands. Six or seven shadows rushed out like ghosts. Within a blink, all of them had been knocked down on the ground. These people were the Divine Mercenaries hiding in the dark. Those people, including Saber, had all reached eighth level of Overt Power and were all experienced. Those ordinary people were no more than a piece of cake for them. Lucas and his fellows had been knocked out before they could see it clearly.

Tonight, blood debts demanded alliance. The SUVs rolled to a stop, engines grumbling low like caged beasts. Doors opened. Men stepped out—mercenaries, pale-eyed, movements deliberate, weapons slung low but not forgotten. They carried themselves with the quiet of wolves who’d killed too many times to need to posture. Then Marek emerged.

He reached out his hand, covered in horribly scarred burns, to touch the inscription on the tombstone, but his fingertips trembled violently in mid-air. "Leah... It hurts so much..." He finally said, his voice hoarse and barely audible. This time, only the endless cold wind of the cemetery answered him. He finally understood that the mate who used to care for him and break through his mental barriers to run to him would never come back. ... A year later, Timothy liquidated most of his land and properties, establishing a foundation called The Sunflower to help outcast female werewolves. He was carrying out an endless act of atonement.

Chapter 60: No Way Back The SUV screeched to a halt, its headlights slicing through the dark. My pulse pounded in my ears, but I kept my breathing steady, fingers twitching toward my weapon. The doors swung open, and figures emerged—silent, calculating, armed to the teeth. Dante’s mercenaries. They weren’t here to negotiate. Mimi and I didn’t hesitate. I shifted my stance, muscles coiled tight despite the screaming pain in my ribs and shoulder. There was no room for weakness. Not now. The first man lunged, his blade glinting under the streetlights.

Hundreds. They slithered and clawed their way out of the crimson sea, their dead, milk-white eyes fixed on the cliffside above. They didn't carry weapons. Their hands ended in jagged, ossified blades of black bone, and the sound of their claws scraping against the wet shale sounded like a thousand knives being sharpened in the dark. "Jesus Christ," one of the mercenaries whimpered, backing up a step, his finger trembling violently against the trigger of his rifle. "Those aren't men. Those are monsters..."

Asher POV ​My name is Asher Steele. I am 29 years old; I am the Alpha of Crimson Blood Pack. I have the largest pack in the country. I don’t tolerate mistakes or half-ass shit. I run a tight ship and everyone in this pack knows it. ​“Alpha?” My Bata and best friend say as he knocks and pocks his head in with a scared look on his face. “Yes?” I say while looking up at him. “You know that mission you posted 4 days ago? Well let me say that whoever did it completed it and is already home and here’s your report and the victims are back and said that the girl was a badass and something along the lines of wanting you to go to her pack and thank her for saving them..” he says while trying to hide h

Maren threw the silk blanket aside and scrambled back against the tufted headboard, her heart hammering in her chest. She refused to cower before the silhouette standing over the wooden crib like a predator in the dark. "Are you out of your mind, standing over us like some sort of sociopath?" she demanded, her voice trembling from the lingering terror of her nightmare.

Like he punched a hole in a roll of paper. “They’re down there,” he hisses. I crouch and peek through the window to where he’s pointing. Three Silver Hunters walk through the courtyard. The Hunters are clad in black armor, their heads covered with hoods. Their mouths are hidden behind masks, and their eyes are hidden behind dark visors. Their boots crunch on the grass, and their voices are low but contain a sense of urgency. “Can you hear what they’re saying?” I whisper. Alec growls low in his throat. “They’re talking about how well this has worked out. That the… invitation was a great idea.”

He was the monster who executed her sister. She was the weapon sent to tear his empire apart. Evelyn Mercer entered the dark, opulent underworld of Chicago with a single, dangerous obsession: bring down Julian Vane. Armed with stolen financial ledgers, a forged marriage contract, and a cold hatred that burned brighter than fear, she walked directly into the lion’s den ready to play the dutiful bride while secretly burning his syndicate to the ground. Julian Vane is a kingpin accustomed to loyalty bought in blood and enemies buried in silence. He knows his cold, sharp-witted new wife is a trap wrapped in silk and ice. But instead of breaking her, he finds himself mesmerized by her lethal in

They had survived too many close calls to end like this, shot down like a dog on a dark dock. “Fuck! Fuck!!” Marcus gritted his teeth, his jaw locking tight. “Leo!” He called out again as he gripped the steering wheel until his knuckles went white, a cold promise settling deep in his chest. "I am going to kill every single one of you," Marcus whispered, his voice deadly quiet. "Every single one." He did not have time to dwell on his grief. Two mercenaries in black tactical gear stepped out from behind a stack of rusted shipping containers. They carried heavy rifles and moved with perfect, military discipline. They did not look like local mobsters. They looked like ghosts in the dark.