Troy Vandegraff Novels & Stories

He held himself oddly as we embraced, flinching slightly when I squeezed him. ‘You’re hurt!’ ‘Shhhhh… it’ll heal. Don’t reveal my weakness, babe. We’ve won, but it’s going to take time for everyone to feel sure…’ I was about to send back to tell him it was stupid to worry about that—but he nodded over my shoulder and whispered, “Look.” I turned to find Troy, no longer a tiger, standing in a circle of young wolves looking very uncertain as they rushed to him, cheering and high fiving, gushing over what he’d done and who he’d taken out.

Even with the confidence of his friend by his side, he still manages to protest what his superior says. “Why not the barracks?” Troy’s voice is low, but not dense enough for Vlad to ignore the indecent and crude response from his lesser. The teacher’s shoulders lower and he turns back around to face the two pre-young adults. Those hazel orbs stare back into Troy’s own ruby pool eyes. “I would hate to see you with those barbarians. You would be forced to go places unprecedented for a young boy like yourself. The training is grueling, hard, and unforgiving. That is not the life you want, Troy, believe me.” Vlad leers over to the vision of the double-wide doors and releases a small huff from h

"Troy's out. I need to get to Long Beach tonight," =============================================================== Please vote, comment, share and follow. Kellisa Kelly

"Hehe. Don't worry…" Troy sneered savagely. "I won't make a mistake, for the sake of my son and nephew's revenge." Pausing, he then sighed. "Shame that I lost Thunder, Bolt, Galen, and Blaze to Frank. He's more impressive than I thought." "Indeed." Kilian nodded as well. He was sure that Frank had completed Birthright rank at best, but he was now wary after Troy's men and his nephew were all killed.

But I grinned, and shook his hand. “I’m Troy,” I said, still trying to figure him out. Magic, definitely. He wasn’t too tall, about five inches shorter than me so just under six feet. He had long blonde hair, obviously spent a lot of time in the sun. He had weird tribal looking tattoos that seemed interesting. He had purple eyes, which I hadn’t even known was possible. But then again, everything about this school was the impossible. “Nice pile of bricks here. I guess it’s just us so far,” he asked, looking around.

He dragged me through the crowd before I could argue and stopped in front of a tall guy leaning against the bar. “This,” Marcus announced proudly, “is Troy.” Troy. He was older and probably went to another college maybe, with dark curls falling into his eyes and a smirk that looked permanent. His gaze shifted to me slowly, like he was taking his time on purpose. “And you must be Stephen,” he said. His voice was low, smooth. I gave him a tight nod. “Yeah.” “Troy’s into design and PR,” Marcus added unnecessarily. “He helped with the promo stuff for the event and he goes to our school but he is a senior."

“Troy. My name is Troy and I have come here to seek refuge.” I nodded sarcastically. “What if you had lured the vampires or what you said is attacking, what if you had lured them here? Should I be planning to continue your war?” Troy shivered at the mention of war. “I just want you to know…it has haunted down different parks and sooner or later, it is going to find you. I wanted a safe harbor. I have heard so much about you.” I rolled my eyes and nodded. “So, what do you want me to do for you now?”

‎Troy Montgomery is the Smooth Operator of the duo, the one who handles the PR while Matt handles the executions. He is a golden-tongued viper in a charcoal-grey suit with eyes the color of cold bourbon, and sun-kissed honey brown hair that’s perfectly coiffed but just messy enough to suggest he treats every sexual demand like a high-stakes poker game, and if the price of the Southbank contract is a few hours of "throne room service," he’s already checking his watch to see how long it’ll take to close the deal. He isn't as sculpted as Matt, but he’s lean, and got a dimple on his left cheek that he uses like a weapon to charm women to split their secrets, and apparently 68-year-old empresses,

Giselle pitifully begged Meadow for forgiveness. On Meadow's delicate face, there was no longer any warmth, she moved her pink lips: "Tell me, General Manager Troy is a Hong Kong businessman from the south of S City, how does he know Ashley?" "I, I, I don't know either. Maybe, someone told General Manager Troy before. Meadow, believe me, I've never been good at water since I was a child, I drowned when I was a child, so when I heard General Manager Troy's request, I immediately refused. Besides, I didn't do anything else."

“Devon wouldn’t do this. He—” Troy cut me off, stepping closer and placing a file down on the desk in front of me. “We just got this,” he said. “And I need you to face it.” Slowly, I reached forward, my hands trembling as I flipped the folder open. My breath caught in my throat. It was the same photo. A blurry image of a man, caught in the act of what looked like a secret exchange. The shadows obscured his features, but the shape, the stance—