Warframe Rescue The Contractor Novels & Stories

"Silas." "He bought out the perimeter," Aris confirmed. "Your father’s corporation hired a private military contractor. They are setting up heavy artillery batteries pointed directly at the Violet Curtain. They are wearing specialized, lead-lined tactical suits. The suits are designed to block the environmental resonance. If they drink the water, it won't heal them. It won't affect them at all."

Alex muttered as he stared at the picture. Just then, his phone rang, and he glanced at the unknown number. "How was the surprise, Alex?" Ella smirked, and Alex said nothing. He would give her the chance to complete her bullsh*t before he started talking about business. "I'm sure it was good. She must be very special to you, isn't it?" She chuckled, and anyone knowing the reality would've laughed at her now. "Now, if you want her and your child to be safe, then you'll have to do as I say because I know you don't want the media to know about your secret contract." She lowered her voice, and she surely sounded like a crazy woman.

Glass shattered as bottles were knocked off the bars. Three contractors charged directly toward my booth, pulling heavy stun batons from their belts. They wanted to capture the heir alive to appease Victoria, but they clearly didn't care how many bones they had to break to do it. Dropping my center of gravity, I let the Alpha completely take the wheel. The first contractor swung his baton in a wide, vicious arc aiming for my temple.

The wind whipped around them, adding to the intensity of the moment. The people below gasped in shock, some covering their mouths in disbelief. The scene was chaotic, with reporters frantically capturing every moment and onlookers holding their breath. Soldiers and police officers, cooperating with the Astral Guardians, swiftly moved to set up a rescue air cushion below them. The coordination was seamless, a testament to their training and preparedness. Trish and Joyril, two new members of the Astral Guardians, along with several SWAT members, entered the building to assist Hunter. Their faces were set with determination, fully aware of the stakes.

a heavily armed tactical commander shouted, descending into the trench with a rescue ladder, his face hidden behind a ballistic visor. Dominic didn't answer. He stood up in the dust-filled crater, his towering frame casting a massive, terrifying silhouette under the crisscrossing tactical searchlights. His shirt was torn to shreds, his tensed abdominal muscles covered in soot and streaks of dark crimson from the earlier shotgun graze. He looked less like a corporate tycoon and more like a ruthless warlord who had just crawled out of the depths of hell.

Tension points. There—by the bar, half in shadow. A contractor type: thinning hair, too‑big watch, laugh that didn’t reach his eyes. He glanced at Kael’s men more than at his own boss. Every few seconds, his hand went to his throat, like he expected it to be cut. “Kitchen contractor by the bar,” she thought. “Too‑big watch, bad laugh. Keeps checking your men instead of Varga.” “Got him,” Aria said. “Face match: minor logistics. His firm flagged on a Siren‑adjacent manifest last quarter. Interesting.”

The first wave of Syndicate vehicles was already visible on the ridge road, their headlights threading through the rain. Aria exhaled. “Fine. We go.” They sprinted through the sand, heads bowed against the blast of air. The pilot extended a gloved hand; Ethan boosted Aria up first, then climbed in after her. The hatch slammed shut and the cabin dimmed to red emergency light. “Buckle in,” the pilot ordered, voice calm and clipped. “Captain Mireya Duarte. Former Interpol. Contract says extraction and delivery to safe coordinates.” “Who signed that contract?” Ethan asked.

Legal lines are suggestions to them, not boundaries. Emerson exhaled quietly through his nose. “And the other?” There was a longer delay. Long enough for him to stand and walk toward the window, staring out into the darkened city below. Finally, the phone vibrated. ‘Underground contractor. No official affiliations. Known for targeted operations. Extraction, intimidation, permanent solutions. A gun for hire.’ The words settled heavily in Emerson’s chest. Amira had not been reaching out for help. She had been preparing for war.

"We weren't to know. They smelt like Wolves, they acted like Wolves. It' was as simple as that. However, the contract they wanted was never about needing support or Neah. I believe they are looking for a way to tear me down. And it all started with the very thing I’ve created.” “They wouldn’t be the first, Dane. There have been plenty over the years including your own brides that have tried to get out of your contracts or ones that were just doing it to gain information. Now if Treya and the rest were to turn a load of people, we both know that we still have the numbers. And they are the most skilled fighters. Your brother made sure of that.” He frowns at me, “How is Neah reacting to the inf