The Pact Book Novels & Stories

“There’s something I need to show you.” Alice frowned as Mira pulled out a small, leather-bound book, its edges worn and stained. She handed it to Alice, her fingers brushing hers—warm, too warm. “My family’s kept this for years. It’s… history. About the packs.” Alice opened it, her hands shaky. The pages were old, filled with cramped writing and strange symbols—circles, crescents, claws. One word jumped out: Hybrid. Her stomach twisted as she read a line: Born of man and moon, the one who carries both bloods shall break or bind the packs.

I quirked an eyebrow, attempting to lighten the mood. "The organization you unwittingly crossed paths with tonight is known as the 'Crimson Pact,'" with a low rumble voice, he was trying to explain. “They're a clandestine group that wields powers beyond human comprehension. Their motives are shrouded in layers of intrigue and authority, and they've maintained this precarious balance for centuries."

“You’re not. But he wants you to feel like you are.” “Why?” “Because if he writes your story first, you’ll spend your strength fighting his version before you ever find your own.” The words stung because they made sense. We started walking again. The forest thinned until the sky opened a little. “What did you mean about borrowing your choice?” I asked. “Is that… pack stuff?” “It’s survival,” he said. “But yes. In a healthy pack, if one can’t choose, the Alpha chooses until they can.”

The walls were lined with shelves, which were filled with books that were bound in animal hide and metal cases that were covered in sigils. An altar was in the middle of the room, and on it was a huge ledger stamped with the Lannister crest. I opened it. The writing was obscure, the words were antique, yet I made out something. It was not a record of triumphs. It was a confession. The First Pact. The Lannisters hadn’t simply fought the primordial wolves — they had made a deal with them. Bound their spirits through ritual to gain dominance over the packs. They’d enslaved the oldest bloodline in exchange for power.

The cover was scarred, the edges worn by centuries. "The Pact of Union," Mirage said, his voice carrying with absolute certainty. "Signed at the dawn of peace among your packs, before the first council was ever formed. Sealed by blood, preserved by magic. Waiting for the day when balance would be restored by the one chosen to unite not just wolves, but all." "Has there ever been something like that...?" Some young Alpha's were in puzzlement, while the older ones had the looks of denial.

They called it The Phoenix Pact. It was not a program, nor a campaign. It was a promise. A covenant between the foundation, its fellows, its facilitators, and its communities. A vow to protect voices, to honor truth, to rebuild trust. It would be signed not with ink, but with action. It would be lived, not just declared.

“Really Blakeley? Really?” Alex snapped as he turned to her. “What? I had to do what I had to do. He fucking changed the deal because you guys walked in.” She replied. “There is a party tonight if you have forgotten. I need it to my advantage.” She said and he scoffed. “Of course, this is all a game to you. It is all about power. Our children were in here.” “And nothing happened to them.” She replied and rolled her eyes. Alex suddenly grabbed her arm roughly and held it.

Someone else was pulling the strings, someone higher up in the Pact. The Pact was structured like a ladder, seven ranks in total, each one granting more power and control. At Rank 6, you were given access to the women deemed “failures.” These women were no longer seen as people—they were property, auctioned off to the highest bidder by those with the authority to oversee the transactions. But Mark was only Rank 4. He didn’t have that kind of reach. If Mark was planning to sell Sky, it meant someone at Rank 6 or higher was backing him. That explained why he hadn’t turned me over to the Pact’s officials yet. He was stalling, buying time, trying to extract what he wanted from me before handing

I sighed, "We're going to do this the right way, Paul. No matter how frustrating it is to see monsters like him walking around freely." He nodded, mouth pressed into a thin line. Even though he didn't look too happy about the decision to not go up there and start a fight with Santiago, I knew Paul would always play by the rules. In a way, that was what made him and I so alike. We gave it our all, and we were rule followers. "Enough of that chit chat." One of the other agents said from across the room, "We need to evacuate the rest of the club and get to work combing through this place."

“Well, I am Blake The Troublemaker and I’d like to know why you killed a vampire this morning,” the dangerous-vibe vampire smirked humorlessly as he approached the werewolf unfazed by his growls. Holy shit! Blake The Troublemaker was in town and he wasn’t just visiting. He was the one who established The Devil’s Pact, the peace treaty that ended the era of wars between species. All supernatural beings abide by its laws to keep the harmony going, and all crimes are investigated and punished.