The Ravager Novels & Stories

And they were walking towards me. Azraiel's heart dropped in his stomach as soon as he heard her describe those wolves. The ones she was talking about were rouges. Rouges are the wolves that don't live in a pack because they have been either banished for a crime or lost their sanity for reasons like losing a mate. Not all rouges are dangerous. They are weaker than other werewolves due to their lost connection to a pack but stronger than an average human. The rouges that form a pack together become stronger and their insanity often leads them to harm others. Five rouges together seem like they were part of a rouge pack. And then there was Richard. He was glad that Charlotte ran away from him

In fact, as I looked closer at the faces staring back at me, a cold realization settled into my chest. A young man leaning against a well had a deep, jagged silver scar cutting right across his throat. It was the telltale mark of a severed vocal cord or a ruptured wolf spirit. An older woman sitting on a porch was weaving blankets, her eyes milky and blind, but she didn't look nearly as alert as a pack elder typically would. There were kids running around, but their movements lacked that wild, hyper-energetic bounce that young pups usually had before their first shift. "Everyone!" Rayna called out, her small voice ringing clear across the quiet square. She stepped out in front of Edith, poin

“Who are you?” Ranger remained motionless, staring them down past the fire of his magnificent weapon, and in a cold, malevolent tone, he declared, “I am the man who has fought with gods!” Even with the clamor of the ambush continuing to ensue in the distance, nothing could have masked the horrible sound of the five Domineers screaming in terror as Ranger mercilessly struck them down.

Her amber eyes locked on the rune as Mira held it up. She stopped ten paces away. The others fanned out. Arrows remained nocked. Points aimed at our chests. “Torin is dead,” the woman said flatly. It was not a question. It was a statement. “We felt the pack bonds snap last night. The whole valley lit up like the moon herself was bleeding.” Mira’s jaw tightened. “He sent us here before the Ice Wolf’s raiders finished him.” A ripple went through the rogues. Whispers rose. Growls followed. One young male with a scar over one eye spat into the snow. His lips peeled back to show lengthening fangs.

You can't pick it up like a key and replace another helm with it. Daxton signed. "Only one group of ravagers does that." Javier gave him a questioning look. "They like to take the helm as a trophy for every ship they ransack." "The Lunar Ravagers," I added, standing up straight. "And they could be anywhere." I watched as Javier's face screwed up in a combination of irritation and desperation. "So we have nothing?" "On the contrary, mon frair-y," I started. "One of my crew members is an ex-ravager." And he was my next breadcrumb.

When she looked back, she was surprised to see that the girl was still following her. "Are you a stalker or something? Don't make me regret saving you! If you don't get going now, I will shoot you right here!" Stella threatened. "I know you're an assassinator, but you're a good person. A bad person would never have saved me, but you did. I know you can't hurt me. You're afraid I will implicate things for you, and you think I'm a spy, but I'm not. Please," "What? What do you know about me? That man I shot right in front of you is the second person I'm killing today, what makes you think I can't waste your life right now?!" She reeled.

Everyone who is an adult died instantly, while the children who were consumed by the fire fell out of consciousness and woke up as… ‘Nightcrawlers,’ a voice came in my head and I figured it must belong to the woman who has these memories. ‘What happened to you?’ I asked, my heart breaking as I watch every scene unfold in my mind. ‘Siria. My name is Siria. I am the daughter of the betas of the kingdom of dragon shifters, but that is gone now,’ she says and her voice cracked. She showed me everything, every detail, how she found herself tainted with black and unable to crawl out of the darkness during the day. She had once lost her sanity, and her hunger only made it worse.

I had intended to break her, to firmly remind her who exactly she married but the moment she stood over Gerald, cold and completely unbothered about the pooling blood, something stupid snapped inside me, she looked so damn good playing the boss. And then this bitch broke my nose, I touched the bridge of my nose, wincing slightly as a fresh throb of pain shot through my face. I pulled over at the secure yard a few blocks away from the warehouse, stepping into the cool night air, I washed the blood from my face and stripped out my ruined shirt, staring into the cracked mirror of the locker room, I looked deep into my own eyes. Rowan Moretti had officially declared war, he had shot my brother,

“Murderer! Where’s my sister?!” A girl pushed through the crowd, her face streaked with tears and dust. She grabbed another stone, rage twisting her features. Before she could throw it, someone moved faster. A tall figure stepped between us, his arm coming up just in time to block the blow. The world seemed to still. I looked up, and there he was. Alaric. The Raven King himself. His eyes… deep, stormy gray, locked on mine. His jaw tightened as he turned to glare at the crowd, his presence alone enough to make grown men bow their heads.

"Rayden Kalesvara, I know you can hear me! Come out, you coward! Face me like a man!" Gavin Bramasta's once-immaculate clothes were now tattered and stained, his well-groomed hair was a chaotic mess, and his eyes burned red like the embers of hell. He was no longer the proud, genius heir of the Bramasta family. He was a ghost returned from the grave, a wild beast that had lost everything and now had only one thing left: hatred.