Novels by apex

Shane Rossacks groaned as he slowly came to consciousness, his head pounding with a relentless ache.He cleaned a stream of blood from his nose and when he opened his eyes, he was met with the sight of a large, opulent bathroom surrounding him, the silvery fixtures and fittings gleaming in the dim light.As he sat up, he realized he was lying on the cold, marble floor, naked and vulnerable.Shane scrambled to his feet, his heart racing as he took in the sight of the luxurious bathroom. The walls were adorned with intricate golden patterns, the bathtub was a pristine white with delicate claw feet, and the mirror above the sink was framed with ornate carvings. The fittings were all of the highest quality, clearly imported goods from far-flung lands..“Where is this place?” he asked himself.As he surveyed his surroundings with a mix of confusion and awe, Shane's mind raced with questions. How had he ended up in this lavish bathroom? And more importantly, who was he?He stumbled over to

In the park, the course of discourse between the Mahoney brothers, Jameson the billionaire strolled alongside his trusted attorney, Sean, and Wilson, the present best attorney and a seasoned hunter respectively.Wilson also brought allies, allies who were a team of skilled hunters disguised as police officers to guard Jameson and Sean.Little did they know that their peaceful walk would soon be disrupted by the arrival of Will, Jameson's stepbrother.From shadows amidst the trees, Will emerged from the darkness with his pack of werewolves cleverly disguised as ordinary humans.They swiftly surrounded the team of Jameson, Sean, Wilson, and the ten hunters, forming a daunting barrier and folding their arms. "You're right, Sean," Wilson confirmed. "He is right," Wilson said and turned to Jameson as he whispered, "They are werewolves."With an air of tension thickening the atmosphere, Will delivered a stern warning to Jameson, demanding that he relinquish control of the park resort they

Sean sat at his desk, exhausted yet determined to see through his ordeals which the media had announced for him. He had seen his name in the news headline as the one topping and dealing with the bad guys of the city.He knew he had garnered enemies already among the ones he had death with, also, the other ones with big bad enterprises would surely be on the lookout for him, waiting for him to strike easily strike to take him out of the way.His recent victories in the courtroom had been sweet, bringing about his rise to the top spot and up on the chart, but not only did it benefit him, but it also added to the mounting dangers he would face.He reached for his phone and dialled Wilson's number, hoping his friend could offer some guidance and assistance."Ring, ring, ring..." The phone buzzed on the other end until Wilson finally answered. "Hey Sean, what's going on?" Wilson asked, concern lacing his voice."Wilson, I need to talk to you. It's urgent." Sean's tone was hushed, conveyi

In the esteemed courtroom of Johnson County, Attorney Sean stood firmly at the centre of attention, effortlessly exuding confidence and gravitas. This time around, he was the voice of justice, defending the rights of the common man against the oppressive actions of Mr. Drew Mclin, a wealthy and powerful industrialist accused of exploiting and extorting his workers. The memories of the court case as well as his impart in the past hearings had all returned to him and he could remember all, including the bribe that was offered to him so as to drop the charges against the billionaire.The court was abuzz with anticipation as Sean meticulously laid out the evidence against the billionaire with the utmost precision. With each document presented, he painted a vivid picture of the injustices committed by Mr. Mclin and his empire. Sean's voice boomed through the grand chamber, echoing off the ornately decorated walls."Ladies and gentlemen of the court," Sean declared, "Today we unmask the t

After Sean realized that he and Jameson were onto supernatural forces of the werewolves and pack, he returned to the hunters' stronghold of hunters to meet his friend, Wilson and tell him how he had been weary from his recent endeavours and also ask for help. As he approached, he was greeted by the familiar sight of Wilson, his trusted friend and hunter. It had been weeks since they had last seen each other. Just a day after Sean picked up the new role and identity and they were eager to catch up."Wilson!" Sean called out, a smile spreading across his face. "It's good to see you again."Wilson turned around, a wide grin matching Sean's. "Sean! You always manage to find your way back to us. How has your journey been?"Sean exhaled deeply, grateful for the opportunity to share his experiences. "It's been quite the adventure, my friend. I've faced numerous challenges and encountered entities that tested my resolve. But I wouldn't trade it for anything."Wilson's eyes shifted towards a

In the tense courtroom, the air crackled with anticipation as barrister Sean prepared to defend his client against the heinous accusations of kidnapping and drug trafficking.The defendant, Don Razor, a mafia boss was rumoured to be a vicious criminal with a dangerous past, having attempted to take Sean's life on a previous occasion. Undeterred by this threat, Sean steeled himself for the challenging trial ahead. With the installation of Sean's mind and ability, he was reminded of the case and how far he had gone on it. He also knew that the case was dangerous and that it involved a mafia boss, but there was no going back. As the proceedings commenced, the prosecution presented their case with fervour, painting a grim picture of a ruthless criminal empire ruled by Don Razor.They spoke of kidnapped children forcibly involved in the drug trade, a dark world that no child should ever witness, let alone participate in. The jury listened with rapt attention, their eyes wide with disbeli

"Run!" Jonathan screamed. Gunfire erupted, chipping away at the walls and shattering equipment. He realized with chilling clarity that these soldiers weren't interested in Eleanor's capture, or even control. They were here to kill. Anyone. Everyone. Maybe him. He reckoned they weren't from the President. This was Tate’s doing. The lab was a sprawling, multi-level space, a labyrinth of intricate machinery and shattered glass that flew in all directions as they were being shot at. They crawled, ducked, and scrambled, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder and ozone. Jonathan instinctively wanted to summon the greens, to turn the tide, but there were none close enough to heed his silent call. After a while, there was silence, followed by matchings on the platform. The soldiers were in. "Give her up! Let's live!" Doc McStuffins shrieked as a soldier's boot stomped nearby. "No!" Jonathan roared. He turned to the huddled group. "Stay here!" he rasped. Then, with a burst of

The drive to Cyclops Infirmary was largely silent. Eleanor, however, began to speak, explaining the grim reality of their world to the five survivors huddled in the back. She spoke of the virus and its terrifying purpose: not to kill, but to incapacitate, to transform, to render an entire population controllable. When they pressed her on how she knew all this, she simply replied that she had "stumbled upon a podcast," a vague answer that seemed to satisfy their desperate need for understanding. She asked for their names, and they offered them hesitantly: Sarah, Michael, Ben, Lisa, and David. Jonathan heard them, but the names seemed to slip through his numb mind like water through a sieve. He just wanted to reach the infirmary, to unravel the mysteries that now enveloped his existence. Eleanor then dropped another bombshell. "You all carry the virus," she stated, her voice quiet but firm. "Every single person left in York Isles does. It only needs death to be activated. That's

They stepped out of the shopping mall in new clothes. Jonathan picked a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved shirt to cover his bite. The Greens ambled past them, their vacant eyes fixed on unseen horrors. Jonathan and Eleanor walked hand in hand, a silent covenant between them. A curious pattern emerged: whenever Eleanor inadvertently stepped too far from Jonathan, a Green would instinctively lurch towards her, its guttural growl a chilling warning. But a simple touch from Jonathan, a reassuring grip of her hand, and the green would halt, its predatory intent dissolving into an aimless shuffle. Jonathan smiled. And then he would caution himself to stop. He was a walking dead and he had to be humane. He had to find a cure. Eleanor, catching on, began to test the boundaries, a mischievous glint in her eyes. She’d step away, watch a green approach, then quickly grasp Jonathan’s hand, a small, triumphant smile playing on her lips. They found a car, surprisingly intact, parked near a

Jonathan jolted to his feet, a searing pain shooting through his neck. He touched the spot, his fingers coming away sticky with green fluid mixed with blood from an open wound. Eleanor was instantly beside him, her face etched with concern. "You're lucky it wasn't the head," she said. Around them, the greens were still toppling, their bodies contorting in their final, twitching dance, yet a strange instinct seemed to guide them around Jonathan and Eleanor, leaving a clear, untouched space. He scanned the sky, a strange sense of fortune washing over him. He felt lucky he hadn't been shot in the head. Truly. The distant whir of helicopter blades grew louder, then faded. He lifted his gaze to see the choppers receding with the President of York Isles a tiny, unreadable figure staring down at his daughter. "Let's go," Eleanor urged, pulling at his sleeve. "Where?" he rasped. "You can work your cure out," she said, her eyes fixed on his. "Let's find a place where I can tell you

Eleanor rummaged through a small, worn backpack that was in the van. She pulled out a crumpled, empty can, her face falling. "Hu-ngry?" Jonathan rasped, the word a struggle against the blood that constantly threatened to fill his mouth. He didn't wait for an answer. He pushed open the van door and stepped out. The streets were a tapestry of green and decay, the shuffling forms of the infected a constant, unsettling backdrop. He moved among them, a silent sentinel, his own kind parting before him as if sensing an invisible authority. He could tell that they revered him, that he was different and maybe they knew too. One place was his mind, to get Eleanor there and get the cure. He found a derelict convenience store, its front window shattered, revealing shelves picked clean. But in the back, behind a counter overturned by some forgotten struggle, and then a rotten body. He found a small cache of canned goods: peaches, beans, and a single can of chunky soup. He gathered them a

Jonathan wanted answers. He knew he was human. He knew what zombies did to humans. Even the just begotten ones that he had named the Greens. He looked at them, and they didn't attack him. He realized he wasn't filled with the urge to attach the ones within. He wanted answers and he knew somehow, they would tell him something. He placed his hands on the door and then fumbled with the latch outside. He pulled it, and the door gave way. “Oh my God!” He heard the woman talk. “This one is different.” Different? He heard. He stepped in, and the soldier cringed as he pulled the woman behind him. They both retreated into a corner of the van. He wanted to speak, to articulate the whirlwind of questions swirling in his mind, but only a wet, gurgling sound escaped his throat, followed by a cough that brought forth a spray of dark, viscous blood. The greens outside, a silent, shuffling throng, looked on with an unnerving stillness. It was as if they were waiting, their vacant eyes