War Races Novels & Stories

I quickly hung up before he started asking silly questions. ** "Alright troops. We have a mission and a time frame and there's a high chance not all of us will make it back alive. We must follow every instruction perfectly and be swift in our actions. So we can receive the coveted prize. Now men to battle!" Rose ended her speech dramatically. I just watched her not knowing how to react. Christie finally spoke "We are making dinner not going off to war" "War. Cooking. They both have the same level of difficulty. All I know is the kitchen is a battlefield, I mean there are so many knifes here" she exclaimed.

She rose, her gaze fixed on the horizon where the city’s fires shimmered like a thousand crimson eyes. Below, Valenfort prepared for yet another war where humans, vampires, and everything in between would soon redefine what it meant to call something peace.

Madam Amelia seemed to know this as she nodded her head at me. “Now what? You can’t break your vow. What will you do? You can’t have a Wolf Rider running around Astoria.” There it was. She knew what her daughter was. The half human part of it was the least of it. The fact that she was a Rider—a creature that could control a werewolf with a simple command. A creature that ruined my family's life. A creature, who must be destroyed before it gains power. There hasn't been a rider born in half a century, and even before, there was only one that ruled Astoria.

It mattered because Rayven had intercepted chatter about a possible extraction and warned me, in the language of men who have seen the world burn, that if I didn’t resolve this before sunrise, it would be resolved for me. But most of all, it mattered because her father and mine were locked in a game of chess that had been running so long the board was more blood than wood. And she was the piece no one could afford to lose. It mattered because her father and mine had been killing each other's people for decades now. What started with knives in alleys moved to boardrooms and bank accounts. Sometimes years passed without blood. But the bodies always returned, and both our fathers' fingerprints