Vecna Victims Novels & Stories

They were steady, folded in front of him, the same composure he had carried since the moment he stood up in his own room hours ago and said I can help with that. "I want to speak about one more thing," he said. "A woman named Venn." My breath caught. "She survived the relocation," he said. "She ran. For two years, she ran, with nothing and no one, until the world finally caught up to her in a way that none of us were ever told the details of." His voice did not break this time, but it went quieter, the careful quiet of a man handling something fragile in front of a room full of strangers. "She gave birth during that time she was running. She named her daughter, and she made sure, somehow, ag

the narrator says. Liberty felt tears rolling down her cheeks as she recalled the terrifying experience of that moment, when enforcers broke down the front door to her house, bound her hands, and dragged her away. She also recalled the sounds of her mother screaming her name as she was forced into the van with the other chosen victims. Those memories caused her to feel an overwhelming sense of fear. "I almost made it to daylight," she whispered as she recalled how much her hands hurt from digging into the icy earth and the terror she felt as she lay in her small hole waiting for morning for freedom. "But someone discovered me," she said. "But I almost made it."

His fingers claw at the air, searching, lost. Now I see it all—their suffering carved into their faces like old runes. The blindness, the weakness. These were once the voices of the West… and now they can barely breathe. “Please… take care of them. We will find their homes later,” I command, my voice firm. “They can’t go home,” Kaela spits, fear twisting her word “Why?” I ask, narrowing my eyes. “You remember the elders that were rumored to have been killed and buried by Varyn?” Nyvrae hisses, her voice sharp.

“That could be a crack in their armor. He might be the key. But to reach him, we’ll have to get our hands dirty.” Vania drew in a long breath, exhaled slowly. The trembling in her hands hardened into a fist atop the blanket. “All this time I’ve been nothing but a pawn. Devandra accused me, the media smeared me, and the kidnappers treated my life like a bargaining chip. I’m done being used.” Arga waited, listening. “I won’t run anymore. I don’t want to sit in some corner while you do all the fighting. If those system logs are the real evidence, then I’m going with you. I want to see their filthy games exposed with my own eyes.”

One by one. Helena Calloway. James Obi. Ruth Adeyemi. Comfort. Benson. The nine. Amaka Osei. The six researchers in Edmund’s documentation. The two West African researchers. Every person named in the trial record as a direct victim of the operation he had built. He named them in the order the harm had been done to them. Starting with her mother. Starting with the twenty-three-year-old researcher in Edinburgh in 1986. Sera felt the full weight of her mother’s name in that man’s mouth in that courtroom and let it land completely. Without compression. The full specific weight of hearing the name of the person she was most made of spoken by the person most responsible for the damage done to her.

Her body stretched and stiffened, and then she flapped twice like a fish. When he was done, he laid her down and said, “She’s from the Blow-Wow Pack in Bolivia. Her mind is a bit frazzled.” The warrior ran up to me with a brown shirt to cover the rogue. I took it and Venus and Azara helped me to dress her. Undoubtedly, she was traumatized. Valen stood straight. He rubbed his chin as he went deep into his thoughts. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” I comforted the scared woman as she stared blankly into my eyes.

The headlines had done half the work for them. “Children Used in Human Experimentation—Criminal Empire Exposed” “Interpol Investigates Lucrezia Vitale for War Crimes” “Unknown Operatives Leak Footage of Underground Labs” And though the footage was grainy, the image of a bloodied woman leading half-starved children out of a metallic hellhole had gone viral. Sera Vale had become something else. A myth. A ghost of vengeance. And yet, she was very real as she stood at the Vault’s command deck, fingers curled around the edge of the conference table, eyes rimmed with exhaustion but sharp as ever.

Vetta was almost screaming, "Being sorry can never erase the suffering! The pain! And yes, I hate you! I hate you so much, it's so suffocating for me!" Danika reared back like she slapped her. "You have any idea what he did to me? Your father!? The rapes...!? The beatings...!? The whippings....!? The workloads!? Do you have any idea what he did to me!?" Angry tears filled Vetta's eyes and overflowed as she shouted, "Your father caused me to have two miscarriages under heavy beatings and rapes! And now—"

Two were rape victims, three were victims of human trafficking, two were sold by their drunkard family members in the prostitution house from where they were rescued and one was once gifted to Victor by his partner. From her talks I got to know that she is also a rape victim. She told me her story, how she was raped, how she lost her family, how she was rescued, about her coma and about her joining the mafia, all with a smile. After listening to her only one thought came to my mind, she is strong..........really strong.

VALENTINA My body is still broken from Mordaunt's captivity. Silver burns on my wrists. Psychological scars from watching my mother's execution footage. Trauma that will take years to heal. But I'm not sitting this out. I strap on weapons. Silver knife. Stakes. UV flashlight. Everything I need to kill vampires. Around me, other female fighters are arming. We're not the majority but we're not insignificant either. Fifteen women out of fifty-two fighters. Almost a third.