This Day We Fight Novels & Stories

We would fight back, together, even if it meant facing the shadows of war head-on. --- As dawn broke the next day, I gathered the pack, determined to rally everyone for the battle ahead. We would not back down. Together, we would face the shadows and emerge victorious.

God, we need to get out of this town immediately. Reluctantly heading down the stairs, Selene wearing another polka dot dress we saw Troy and Jacob waiting on the porch for us. In the bright sunshine of the late afternoon it felt as though we were just two couples hanging out. It didn’t seem real that we had been involved in a battle, death, and blood.

I turn my head, letting my gaze sweep over them once more. “ Today, we are not prey. Today, we are not the hunted. Today, we stand here as warriors, as Lycans, as WOLVES! Today, we fight not for survival but for VICTORY! ” My voice rises, raw with emotion. “ We do not fight this battle to delay our end. We fight because this is the END—for THEM! This will be the end to the vampires, and humans, and the man who thinks he can hunt us down forever. ” Loud cheers sound from the crowd, but it’s not enough.

I looked back at Azelea, I wasn’t in the mood to leave her, not now… now after what we had just shared. “We will be quick,” he said. “Fine, but make it quick,” I said. He nodded. “The elders have picked the day for the fight,” he said the minute I closed the office door behind us. My body stilled, not from fear, I knew this would come, but I wasn’t sure I understood why they were fighting for it now. “When?” I asked. They didn’t even have the decency to wait for the guests to be gone. “Tomorrow night,” he said.

"Maybe four. Not long. Not enough time to prepare adequately. Not enough time to find the perfect solution. Not enough time to create a miracle. We have days. Only days. Then they arrive. Then they attack. Then we fight or die. Those are the only options. Fight or die. Resist or be erased. Stand or cease. We must choose. Must decide. Must commit. Do we fight? Do we resist? Do we stand against hundreds of nothing-fragments determined to erase us? Or do we surrender? Do we accept erasure? Do we let them win? What do we choose?" "We fight," Spring said immediately. "Of course, we fight. We always fight. We never surrender. We never accept erasure. We never let anything win. We fight. Always fig

We don't have peace in our own homes. "I want you to fuck this bitch until she can't feel her body anymore. After you are done, break all her limbs and we are going to record everything and post it for the world to see. Let's show them what they get when they keep messing with us. From today, if you see a witch, reap her apart, I know how to weaken them, and today marks the end of them using us to come back to life," the rogues growls in unison and angrily tears their clothes.

"Then let’s make sure the world hears it." And as I curled beside him, heart steady, I knew that tomorrow we would fight. And we would win. No matter who tried to stop us.

In our self-built war room, we are poised, on the verge of creating history and willing to change the world and take a stand for what is right. To brighten a new day and start our mission, the sun will rise the day after tomorrow or rather, tomorrow. Yet here now, in this calm solidarity, we strive only to stay close and hold fast because whatever comes for us next, we know it will be better if we don’t face it alone.

Together, we work through the night, piecing together a strategy, clinging to the hope that we can turn the tide. By the time dawn breaks, exhaustion weighs heavily on us, but we have a plan. It’s not perfect, and it’s far from a guarantee, but it’s a start. This is my fight, our fight, and I won’t back down. Not now, not ever. We are Wilson Paragon, and we will rise from these ashes.

Lucas admired this beauty on many mornings, sometimes with Emma and sometimes without, but that beauty left his mind this morning when the holo-screen buzzed. He changed quickly into a t-shirt and hoodie, some jeans, and his favorite white pair of Air Curry 22’s. After dressing he opened his sock drawer and rummaged through it until he pulled out his Glock 30. He racked the slide back to ensure the chamber was empty, put the loaded clip in, and stuffed the gun in his waist band. Before heading back to the dining room he examined himself in the mirror. He never remembered looking this tired before. His eyes were slightly sunken and darkened. His hair was getting longer and shaggier than he pr