Romans & histoires Crimson Squad

"I know Mira, Remy, and Jake, of course! But I have never seen you before, little brother!" Creed instantly got tensed and started repeating like a parrot, "Senior Akash, My name is Creed Gryffon. Batch - 43 Cadet…" "Hmm… Gryffon… now where have I heard that name before?" Akash's loud mumble interrupted him. He turned his head at his clan members, especially Grisha. He turned his head back as if he remembered something. "Creed Gryffon… you are the member of Squad-5, right?" Akash smiled as he looked at Creed, "Congratulation! Little brother, Mira, and Remy, of course, for securing first place in JETs. Excellent teamwork you guys…"

I temper her thoughts as I begin to recite my conversation with Lamia, bringing these werecats and whatever Crimson is, up to date and informing them of the new enemy – Orion Artos. “We are not strong enough,” Crimson interjects after I have relayed the details. “They are going to war in less than three months. I will be the first to admit our army has been weakened.” I watch Crimson as he runs a hand down his face and then through his dark curls. His yellow eyes flashed in a reptilian way. I swear they change, not just the color because I have witnessed them turning a deep red. But the pupils sometimes seem to take on a different shape.

Behind Magnus, his forces mirrored the stance, creating a powder keg that needed only the smallest spark to explode. Then the roar of engines shattered the standoff. They came from the north, a massive convoy moving with military precision, their headlights cutting through the darkness like searchlights. But these weren't ordinary motorcycles, and the riders weren't ordinary wolves. Even before they came to a synchronized stop that made the ground tremble, I recognized what they were. The Crimson Guard. The Council's enforcement arm. The ones who made examples of alphas who forgot their place.

We were going to need all the manpower we could gather, and we wanted their support and input. Nate pursed his lips, leaning back against the old leather of our usual booth in the bar, after Killian and Jamerson had gone over our plan. We were going to send a team to the Crimson Pack and a team to the Ravens Pack. We would falsely claim we were at the Crimson pack to back them up and pick up the rest of what they owed us for not interfering. While the team at the Raven Knights would sit in wait posing as pack members if and when Alpha Crane made his move to attack them.

I quirked an eyebrow, attempting to lighten the mood. "The organization you unwittingly crossed paths with tonight is known as the 'Crimson Pact,'" with a low rumble voice, he was trying to explain. “They're a clandestine group that wields powers beyond human comprehension. Their motives are shrouded in layers of intrigue and authority, and they've maintained this precarious balance for centuries."

I have no idea who this woman is. But I know what she is. And that's worse. With Flint dead and his pack subdued, my team begins to gather around me. "What is that?" one of them asks, obviously disgusted by the transformation. "That is a member of the Crimson Shard," I explain, my insides going cold. "The Moonvalley pack's very own team of assassins, each one skilled in intrigue and disguise." I look toward the horizon, in the direction of the home of my mate and mother of my child. This is bad. Very bad.

"Did the Turnbulls kill my parents?" "Straight to it, eh? All right." Alaric combed back his hair. "The truth is, I don't know. There was a battle between two opposing factions in Crimson Blood, which was known as Crimson Moon pack at the time. I don't know how Darien came to be Alpha, but what I do know is that a large group of us rebuilt Crimson Blood almost from nothing after the battle." "How old were you?"

“Sector three, hold fire until grid four two. Sector five, suppress the left flank now. Thermal sweep the tree line; mark and confirm count. Sniper team Alpha, take high value runners first. No one past the inner fence. Repeat, no one past the inner fence.” Every man answers fast. “Copy.” “Copy that.” The same words come from the earpieces of men inside and outside. All of them wear the small black earpieces. Like soldiers or is it like spies. My stomach twists hard. Cold fear crawls up my back. Is this still mafia… or something darker? Men with earpieces, perfect orders, night vision, hidden rooms, snipers who never miss. This feels like an army, like secret police, like the kind of power g

"I, Jason Crimson, Alpha of Crimson Moon pack, accept you Ariana Harrison, as my mate!"