Warhammer Book Of Grudges Novels & Stories

Dead Silent! BOOK 2 ON THE WAY!! (Vengeance on the cruel Alpha King ) -THE END-

Chapter 114: The morning’s light broke over the battlefield with a fierce intensity, as if the sun itself had risen to witness the final act of this bitter conflict. The Blue Moon Pack’s defenses, though battered by the relentless assaults of the exiled werewolves, still held firm. Every wolf was on high alert, hearts pounding in unison as the enemy’s forces began to press their advantage in a desperate bid for victory. The air was charged with the electric mix of adrenaline and grief—a solemn promise that every sacrifice made would lead to redemption.

Roman I had been watching my former friends' movements and I was ready to strike, I couldn't believe how quickly they were taking everything back from me. They were dead, I killed them and now that bitch Addison double-crossed us and made sure they would come back. I told Erik years ago, that we should have killed her instead of forcing her to work with us, now look, he is dead, and I am losing the Kingdom I have worked so hard to build over the years. I will get it back and I will make Aidan and the others pay with their life and this time, stay dead. Sheila made us hybrids and once we have the book, she can reverse the Supremes spell and make us all immortal. Sheila is a weird one but she

I press my lips into a thin line and move on. The third grimoire is thicker, darker, filled with the more obscure records I’ve gathered over time, rituals and warnings, fragments of older traditions. My pulse picks up slightly as I flip through it, hoping to stumble across some half-lost truth. I even find references to cursed wolves and blood-bound shapeshifters, but still… no mention of that name. No mention of those red eyes. I lean back, exhaling hard. Just as I’m about to give up, my eyes land on a fourth book, small, unassuming, bound in dull gray hide. One I almost never open. It’s handwritten and filled with anecdotal entries from witches who lived long before my time.

"Now, you're going to behave or you're going to get hurt." "You're going to regret this!" The Alpha's son hissed. "Stop squirming," Harry ordered. "Last warning." "Who are you guys?" The Alpha's son snapped. "We're The Warrior Pack," Ace said. The guys eyes widened and the Alpha's son went still. "There were rumours that a rogue had taken control. The Rogue. Your Alpha-" "Shut up," Harry said. "It's true. Isn't it?" "Sadly for your packs future, it is," Ace said.

Leslie repeated, more clearly this time. Gunnar let out a short, sharp laugh, but there was nothing normal about it. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “No, that’s not acceptable.” “I’m not asking you to accept it,” she said. “I’m telling you the truth Alpha” “That’s not good enough,” he snapped. Leslie turned fully to face him now, her expression serious. “This isn’t something you can fight your way out of,” she said. “Gravemaw rogues are different. Their bite carries an infection that spreads through the system. It shuts everything down slowly.”

He looks me dead in the face and says, “Great. But let’s cut the bullshit.” (Oh. Okay then.) He steps in closer and keeps going, “Whatever you had going on with my granddaughter? Make sure it’s done and buried. I don’t want to have to kick a Morgan's ass, especially not the one I’m looking at right now.” I blink. “Sir....” He lifts his glass slowly, not even breaking eye contact. “Did a stutter? Listen, don’t let this old age fool you, son. I’m trained in martial arts and a fourth-degree black belt.”

This was gear forged for a real battlefield. "Human craftsmanship," someone whispered in awe. The second cart opened, revealing crates of sealed cylinders. I recognized the markings—alchemical explosives, powerful enough to shatter a city wall. "What... what are those?" a noble stammered in terror. The third cart was the most striking. It held a single black leather box. When it was opened, everyone's face changed. Inside was a thick, leather-bound book. The cover was embroidered with silver thread: The Northern Secrets. A werewolf with complex runic tattoos on his face stepped forward.

The faces before me—elders and fighters alike—mirror my rage, eyes flashing with the promise of retribution. The young warrior swallows hard, exchanging glances with his companions. "The footprints is deep and deliberate. And the killing style—precise slashes, no wasted movement. The bodies were also arranged as warnings. From our deductions, it was no other than the Grimwards." A collective snarl rises immediately, the name alone igniting old hatreds like dry tinder. Grimwards. Our blood enemies. The chamber pulses as warriors shift restlessly, hands itching for weapons. But then one of the messanger warriors hesitates, his voice dropping lower, laced with dread. "Alpha... there was a body