Wattson Apex Novels & Stories

Walton Apex Capital was a sleek fifty-five-story tower made of steel and glass, reflecting the morning sunlight and standing proudly in the Manhattan skyline. I walked through the revolving doors and into the lobby. Marble floors gleamed beneath my heels, and the high ceiling made the space feel even more grand. Employees in tailored suits moved with purpose, their voices low and professional as they crossed the expansive hall just as it was yesterday. I took it in for a brief second before heading toward the reception. I was shown to my office floor, which, of course, was the same one as my boss's since I'm his assistant and need to be nearby. As I got into the elevator and the doors were a

Before Jessica could utter another desperate plea, the heavy bass of the ambient music cut out with a sharp, jarring screech. The candles flickered as a hidden ventilation system kicked into overdrive, pumping a sudden, freezing draft into the Conservatory. The hairs on Lolita’s arms stood on end. Franco stepped to the centre of the room, his glass empty, his expression shifting from a man entranced by a beautiful display of dominance back to the cold, calculating architect of the Apex Bloom.

Clamped in the tongs was a shimmering, semi-liquid ingot of unrefined Starfall moonstone—the last pristine sample retrieved from her mother's deep-vault archives on the Moonhaven Coast. Beside her, Rhys sat on a low stone pedestal, stripped to the waist. The **Apex Core** remained securely locked over his chest, its crystalline channels pulsing in a slow, rhythmic cadence that matched the heavy, measured thud of his heart. Sweat glistened across his broad, scarred shoulders and the intricate dark tribal tattoos lining his ribs.

Maya asked, her hands glowing with a soft gold as she gripped the overhead support rail. ​"Ten minutes. Maybe less," Silas replied, her jaw set. "But we’ve got a bigger problem. Look at the scanners." ​On the tactical display, hundreds of red icons began to swarm the landing zone. These weren't drones or machines. They were the "Apex" wolves, Thorne’s personal guard, fully infused with the Primal Seed and the necro-virus. They were standing on the jagged obsidian peaks, their eyes glowing with a synchronized, rhythmic red pulse.