Tokyo Ghoul White Reaper Novels & Stories

She stirred but didn’t wake. I went into the garage and pressed the hidden switch near the wall, and a section of the floor slid aside, revealing the stairwell to the hideout below. My old colors were there, a black leather jacket with the reaper’s emblem stitched on the back, and I pulled them on piece by piece with the boots, the gloves and the cut. The man staring back at me in the mirror wasn’t the man Serena kissed goodnight; he was the Reaper of the Hellfangs MC, and tonight, he had work to do.

Chandler stopped us before we could even leave the building. "Julia said you had an aversion to guns, however, with those zombies sometimes hitting them hasn't worked," he warned ominously as he handed me a rifle. "Soul eaters," I said as I grabbed the stupid rifle and checked the safety and the chamber. "What?" they said. I gave them a disbelieving look. "Were you guys not listening? They are not zombies. They are soul eaters."

They had overstepped their boundaries one too many times. The folder Mateo spoke about lay. on my desk just like he had said he left it. It had a blue jacket and a half-moon crest. The Visual Clan, what sort of pack of wolves were they anyway?" I wondered as I opened the file. Images of brown wolves mixed with black wolves in the forest where the note in the folder stated was our pick-up point. There was something in the image that wasn't clear, it was almost blurred out. There was a faded figure inside the forest amongst the trees, it was white, almost transparent to the eyes.

His actions will speak for him. We pull up in front of a normal-looking house. It is two stories and is the larger size but it looks nothing like what people would assume the leader would have. There is a garage with a nice yard and a wraparound porch. My mate thanks to the driver and then comes around and opens my door holding out his hand. I take it and get out and see that my bags are setting on the porch. Someone must have brought them here while we were at the reaping. We make our way up the steps and my mate unlocks the door and takes my bags in with him.

"Everyone knows the Rivera girl is a rare white wolf. Her pups will be top-tier Alphas, every single one. Whoever mates her becomes the future Alpha King." "And look at her—the Moon Goddess must've carved her by hand." "A wolf like that, blood like that, Is Damian insane?" "Poor Rivera girl. Her own mate doesn't even want her." The whispers circled. Everyone was certain I'd name Damian—they'd all seen how badly I'd fallen for him. In my last life, I worshiped Damian as my savior. White wolves are rare, which means my life was never peaceful. I got snatched by rogues once.

The players eyes widened in terror, as the three figures emerged from the shadows. Medusa stood tall, her hair writhing like snakes, each strand tipped with venomous fangs. Her eyes glowed like embers, piercing through the darkness. A stone-like mask covered her face, except for her full, crimson lips, curved into a wicked smile. The Reaper loomed beside her, his presence like a shadow cast over the land. His eyes were empty sockets, his skin gray and decaying. A black hood covered his face, and his tattered cloak billowed behind him. His blood streaked soulcutter was held firmly to his chest as though passing a silent warning.

He knew the Chen blood in my veins was just as volatile as the Steele blood in his. "The choice is simple," Dax said, looking at the traitors. "Drop the weapons, let us take the Norton and the interceptor's core, and we walk. You keep the clubhouse. You keep your lives. But the Ghost Wolf project dies today." Reaper looked at the screen, then at me, then at the massive machine behind him. He slowly took his hand off the console and raised it in the air. "She's got the sync, Miller. She's not lying. The vibration is already at the threshold."

Fury radiated from her size and for some reason, her death glare was partially directed at Ciara, bloodthirsty. The White Wolf. I froze. We all did. The legend I had dismissed. The nightmare whispered about under the moonlight; stood before me. Alive and breathing. Staring straight into my soul. My throat dried. None of us moved, no one breathed. We all stared back with horror. The only sound was her growl, deep and unrelenting, shaking us to our bones. She stepped back a few paces, slow and deliberate. Reclaiming the center of the road as her battlefield, claiming her stance. Her burning gaze found mine; cold, merciless, warning. Her message was clear. For us to turn back. And for the first

I steadied my voice and swallowed the lump in my throat when he stepped toward me. “I'm the Reaper.” He whispered. “What is a Reaper?” Pointing the dagger to me, he flung and caught it, then he said, “a Reaper needs mystical energy to survive. The power that you possess.” This was the moment that I had to fight for my life, for my pup's life. I didn't know who this man was, what he wanted from me, but I wouldn't let him have it. Whatever he said about a mystical energy, he's got the wrong girl because I'm a werewolf. I'm the wolf-less Luna of Night Shade Pack. The late bloomer.

A Reaper stepped through the portal opening. Tall, with ebony hair, he wore the long black cloak she expected to see, a scythe in his hand. The man quickly ran to the left of the portal, and then another Reaper appeared on his heels. Dressed identically, with the same weapon, he ran to the right. Then, another sprang forth, and another. Ru watched, her eyes wide as the Reapers continued to pour out of the portal, as if Hell had spilled an inkwell and the thick, black substance was covering the entire earth.