Wild Card We Can Be Heroes Novels & Stories

Mom is one of the most famous reporters in the country. She exposes all kinds of wrongdoing, and the public hails her as a champion of justice. What she doesn't know is that while she's out fighting for other people, I'm being viciously bullied at school. When I finally work up the courage to ask her for help, she gives me a disgusted look and tells me to quit being so dramatic. Eventually, my bullies beat me to death and bury my body in a reeking drainage ditch. When my body is finally dug up, Mom is the reporter sent to cover the scene.

Guns raised, one of them shouting something about phones, about staying down, about nobody being a hero tonight. And I remember, all at once, the man with the clipboard. I should have said something. I told myself it was nothing. The room drops to the floor around me in pieces—tables overturning, glass breaking somewhere near the bar—and I go down with them. --- POV: Haley Nathan's hand finds mine before I even look for him. We're under a table with a dozen other people, someone's elbow in my ribs, and his grip doesn't loosen the entire time the masked men move through the room collecting watches and phones and whatever else people are too scared to refuse to hand over.

“We’ll even treat you whatever dessert you like.” I sighed in a dejected tone, “I don’t know if I’m going out like this.” “Just go get your hoodie coat,” Wilt said. “Nobody’s going to recognize you wearing that on the street.” It seemed to be a good idea to go on an incognito. I went back inside to grab it. As soon as we got out about five steps, we heard a cry, “Extra, extra! Hercules’s Brave has been identified. Got peed in his pants from last night’s par-tay.”

You're young and still have a lot ahead of you. It was too much. He was so beautiful and tough-looking, radiating protective energy like great wavesof heat, and it was so incredibly sweet of him to care. All she wanted was to fling herself into his arms and say oh, yes , please save me, oh, my hero, my mate. She hated herself for being so tempted, for feeling so helpless. She wrenched her arm away and stumbled , catching herself on the trunk of a tree. She dashed her tears away roughly with the sleeve of her jacket.

He smiles, gesturing, he has mastered ths diplomatic shit. "Eat, Merry, Dance, Have Fun." He concludes, and the congregation statrs clapping and cheering, if only they know who we are, what we are. Werewolves grow old and die, we are not like the mythical creatures - Vampires, but we age slowly, with our healing we always look younger than we are. However, we are wild beings, with an insane hunger and need for freedom, it is imposible to cage us, we are the definition of wild, trying to supress our wolves has never ended well for us, It could be like a split personality, the wolf in us, it takes time to merge, it gets harder and painful if we try to supress it, and unlike myths, we do not ne

I hated every minute of it. “You need to let them celebrate,” Kael said as I tried to escape yet another banquet in my honor. “They need heroes. They need to believe that impossible things can be overcome.” “I am not a hero. I am just a wolf who survived long enough to make a difference.” “That is exactly what a hero is. Someone who survives when survival seems impossible and uses that survival to help others.” I leaned against him, tired in ways that went beyond physical exhaustion. “When does it end, Kael? The fighting, the crises, the constant struggle?”

He smiled back at me, his posture straightening with pride. "Cole is the warrior, the Delta of Deltas," Bell said, and I glanced at Cole, who gave me a nervous look. I smiled at him, and his nervousness seemed to melt away as he smiled back. "We also have Omegas, the lowest rank in werewolf society. But even they are far more powerful than an ordinary human," Bell explained. "Could you survive a gunshot?" I asked, catching her off guard. "What—" "Or how about a nuclear bomb? A tank? A machine gun? I mean, we humans, we’ve got these weapons, you know," I finished with an awkward laugh. For the second time, they all stared at me like I had sprouted horns.

It was a dance with nature, a celebration of our true selves. In that enchanted moment, we were no longer orphans or outsiders. We were wolves, creatures of the night, running beneath the watchful gaze of the moon. The bond we formed in that sacred space was unspoken but deeply felt. As we continued our moonlit adventure, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the rare opportunity to be part of something so primal and beautiful.

Holding her young shoulders with his hands on both sides, he answered her question softly. “Yes Erica, not only have you met some Heroes, you also have them in your life. Your Mum who seems to have sacrificed everything for you is one of the Heroes and your brother who stood up to me the first day we met and whom I am sure will always love and protect his sister, is another hero you have in your life. With all these, why else would you be searching for another hero in your life sweetheart? Some of us don’t even have one in our lives, we had to be our own heroes from a tender age.” The man finished softly and I could feel the emotions behind his words.