Wars Meme Novels & Stories

All eyes were again attentively focused on him, interest rekindled. “Good, my children. War ... well, war is kind of an argument. And it is called a dispute when two parties, i.e. two people, two families, two clans or even two peoples want to claim a certain cause for themselves without the intention of sharing it. Let us take an example: a farmer has a new cow that gives a lot of milk and therefore shares the milk with his neighbor. After a few days the neighbor comes and says that the cow actually belongs to him because it was grazing in his pasture. He demands it for himself and his family, while the cow gives enough milk for both families. Of course, the farmer doesn't see why he should

The fat boy commented with clear sarcasm in his voice. Everyone burst into laughter at his sarcastic comment except for the redheaded girl. “Well full disclosure, she is indeed the legendary mate-less warrior.” Everyone gasped at her statement. “That’s ridiculous! We were never told that the mate-less one existed and I can assure you that I’m a straight A student in history!” The fat boy bragged otherwise. “Yeah, how could that be?” The cute voice spoke up again and everyone did the same. They had never been told about the existence of the mate-less one, not even their parents.

Sofia brought champagne, Marcus brought food, Wes brought his characteristic optimism that everything had worked out exactly as it should. "I never doubted," Wes said, clinking his glass against mine. "Okay, I doubted a little. But I always believed the truth would win." "The truth almost didn't win," I corrected. "If Wakes hadn't gone to Montreal, if Heron hadn't kept evidence, if the crowdfunding hadn't provided resources Morrison's revenge would have succeeded." Sofia raised her glass. "To the army of people who refused to let that happen." My phone rang Wakes calling to congratulate me on the dismissal.

I turned. A warrior. Mid twenties. Big through the shoulders in the way that some wolves are who have trained hard since early adolescence and let it make them wide. He was standing about three meters away with a short practice staff held loosely in one hand and an expression that was not quite a smile. I recognized the expression. I had been on the receiving end of it for years in different forms. It was the look of someone who had spotted the person in the room they were allowed to diminish and was deciding whether it was worth the energy.

"They're called W.A.R.; it stands for Werewolf Alliance Retribution. It’s no longer about keeping old values or whatever they claimed to want in the first place. It’s clear they only want revenge.” “War…. That’s their name.” Emmy said, her eyes wide with shock. “So this is just the beginning. They won’t stop. They even put it in their name. We will go to war whether we want to or not.”

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.

She asked loudly, waiting for him specifically to answer. War sighed, hating how all of this was turning out. His wolf just wanted to grab their mate and go but unfortunately, it was just not that easy. Not to mention she was upset. "Pomelia is my mate...my name is War from Bane pack," he explained to her, knowing he should just get that out of the way immediately. Bane pack was infamous...not a place where anyone wanted to brag about, at least not in such a holy place.