The Predator Novels & Stories

“I see that.” “Then respect her.” His gaze drops. “I will.” We don’t speak after that. But for once, the silence between us doesn’t sting. It just settles. Quiet. Almost peaceful. …… SKULL – POV Fools. All of them. The Predator Pack celebrates. They parade their heir, open their gates to Moonstone’s Alpha’s son, and think they’ve won something. They haven’t won. They’ve invited death to dinner and set an extra place at the table.

I couldn’t tame my curiosity and those questions popped out. “Yes, that sickening obsession of yours was predicted to ruin the lives of the three most powerful Alpha Princes, and she’s finally turned up,” my father gladly began the conversation, especially since he was always eager to deliver bad news. “You can’t even deny that the prophecy is real because she’s torn you away from the friends that you’ve grown to love like brothers. And if you keep foolishly letting her cloud your judgment, she’ll be the reason for the extinction of our packs,” he sputtered even more rubbish.

- KILLIAN - Fear. Even from a mile away, I can sense the fear of my prey. It’s very satisfying for a predator to witness the defeat of a victim before it’s claimed as a conquest. And right now, I am that predator, enjoying the trivial acts of my prey. I thrive on it. Dine on it even. And just at the right time, when I have her cornered, I’ll strike and leave nothing untouched. Hunting has never felt so divine.

Whatever made them was big and fast. “There,” I said, crouching to inspect it. “Something heavy passed through here. Recently.” Kara squatted beside me. “Animal or competitor?” I asked. “Both have claws, but this spacing—” She said, touching the edges of the print “—it’s a predator.” My face paled slightly. “Fantastic. Let’s go chase the thing that could eat us alive.” She grinned. “Come on. We didn’t come this far to back out.”

I scoff, shaking my head, “You can’t fool me, Corvin. Your instinct is to kill. You’re a predator, and I’m your prey.” “Yeah,” he mutters. “Unless our roles are now reversed, making you the predator and me the prey.”

“And I’ve learned you’re predictable when your back is to the wall.” Blade circled him like a coiled serpent, moving silently, feet crunching the forest floor only in the slightest. “Every predator has a blind spot,” he murmured to me. “Find it, and you end this.” I nodded, eyes locked on the reminder. He thought he could intimidate us, force us into a mistake. But every moment, I felt the rhythm of him, the push and pull of his aggression, the way he measured space and time. I was reading him like a map—and soon, I’d drive him into the dead end I’d already drawn.

The predator had become the prey. The tables had turned. I whispered, a dark, dangerous grin spreading across my face, "My turn to use lesson one." Triumph and something darker… something predatory rose in my chest. This was what victory tasted like. I didn't give him a single second to recover. I lunged through the dissipating smoke, my movements completely synchronized with Fenrir's predatory instincts now. We moved as one, hunter and prey, instinct and intention merged into perfect harmony. The copy tried to raise his hands to defend himself, but exhaustion had made him slow.

Watching me. His black hair is damp, curling slightly where blood and sweat haven’t dried yet. His chest rises and falls with slow, quiet breaths. His arms hang loose at his sides - not aggressive, not exactly relaxed either. Predator still deciding if I’m prey. His eyes meet mine. Green. Unnatural. Bright. Wild. A shiver runs down my spine. He looks like a man carved from a prophecy - beautiful in a way that’s almost cruel. The kind of face you’d see in a vision before the world ended.

I'd commanded, and now I was a goddamn predator, pacing my gilded cage, waiting for my prey. I envisioned him, Tristan, stripped bare under my command. The image was a vibrant masterpiece painted on the back of my eyelids: his smooth skin flushed, his blond hair tousled, those haunted blue eyes wide with a mixture of fear and… something else. Something that fueled my hunger. I wanted to hear him scream my name until his voice was raw, a broken, desperate sound that only I could elicit. Footsteps. My heart leaped. I straightened, a predatory smile tugging at my lips. This was it.

The wind rushed against my skin, carrying the sharp scent of fear and damp earth. And something else. Predator. I broke through the trees and spotted him, Elias. The young scout was trapped, his ankle twisted in a tangle of roots. Panic filled his eyes as he struggled to free himself, his breathing uneven. Behind him, something moved. Large. Silent. Watching. The predator stepped into the moonlight, its eyes glinting cold and calculating. It wasn’t like the wolves we trained against. It was bigger. Heavier. Its movements were slower but deliberately dangerous in a way that made my instincts flare violently.