All Chapters of The General's Return: Chapter 41
- Chapter 50
168 chapters
Chapter Forty-One – The Hand in the Storm
The grip on Fowler’s shoulder was iron, digging into bruised muscle, forcing him to pivot against his will. He turned his head slowly, eyes narrowed, rifle angled upward though his other arm clutched Selene protectively.Through the veil of rain, lightning etched the intruder’s face into stark relief. Not Victor. Not Raven. A stranger.The man was tall, lean, his uniform a patchwork of mud-stained gear that didn’t belong to any regiment Fowler recognized.His eyes were pale and merciless, his mouth curved in the thin smile of someone who thrived in chaos.And in his free hand, pressed discreetly against Fowler’s ribs, was a pistol. The steel gleamed even through the storm, steady, unshaking.“Drop her,” the man repeated, his voice cutting through the storm like wire. “Or the bullet goes through you both.”Selene stirred weakly, a broken sound escaping her throat. Fowler shifted his weight, keeping her closer, shielding her as best he could, but the angle was tight, too tight.One wron
Chapter Forty-Two – The Shot in the Storm
The gun’s thunder cracked across the battlefield, swallowing the clash of soldiers, the screams, the storm itself. For one heartbeat the world went still, as if the lightning itself had frozen in the sky.Selene’s arms trembled, the pistol hot and heavy in her grasp. Her body swayed, strength draining out of her faster than the blood soaking her dress.She couldn’t tell if she had fired true, couldn’t tell if she had struck the man threatening Fowler or if she had damned them both.Her vision smeared. Shapes blurred together. And then, slowly, sound returned.Fowler staggered up from the mud, chest heaving, his forearm bleeding where the blade had sliced him. His eyes were fixed on the man opposite him.The stranger stood frozen, knife still raised. For a second, nothing happened. Then his arm twitched, the blade slipped from his fingers, and he collapsed forward into the muck, blood spilling from the wound tearing through his shoulder.Selene’s breath caught. She had hit him. Fowler’
Chapter Forty-Three – Crossfire(2)
The world dissolved into thunder. Gunfire ripped through the rain, bullets shrieking past in arcs of fire. Trees splintered, mud erupted, men screamed. The storm was no longer rain and thunder, it was steel, blood, and chaos.Fowler dropped to his stomach, curling his body around Selene’s, shielding her from the onslaught. Bullets chewed the ground inches from his head, kicking mud into his face, stinging his eyes.He dragged her inch by inch across the mire, searching desperately for cover.Her breaths came shallow, hot against his chest, weaker with every second. His mind screamed at him, she’s fading, she’s fading, you’re losing her.Another hail of fire tore through the clearing. He spotted the fallen trunk of a massive oak, half-rotted but thick enough to block the worst of the barrage.With a guttural roar, he pushed to his knees, cradling Selene, and half stumbled, half fell behind it.The trunk shook as rounds hammered into it, bark exploding. He pressed Selene down against th
Chapter Forty-Four – Steel at the Throat
The cold edge kissed Fowler’s throat, sharp enough to slice with the smallest twitch. Rain dripped along its blade, mingling with sweat, blood, and mud. He froze, every muscle drawn tight, his breath fogging the steel.The forest was quiet here, unnervingly so. The chaos of the three-way battle roared faintly in the distance, muffled by trees and smoke.Here, beneath the canopy, only the storm whispered wind through leaves, water dripping from branches.The assassin leaned close, his breath hot against Fowler’s ear. “One move,” he murmured, his voice low and calm, “and your blood joins hers in the dirt.”Fowler’s jaw clenched. His arms tightened around Selene, shielding her even as her head lolled weakly against his chest. Her blood seeped steadily, every drop a countdown he couldn’t afford.“Who sent you?” Fowler rasped.The blade pressed harder, a bead of blood sliding down his throat. The assassin’s reply was a whisper. “Everyone.”Fowler’s eyes narrowed. “Wrong answer.”He moved.
Chapter Forty-Five – The Shot Between Them
The pistol’s crack split the storm, echoing through the forest like a scream. For a fraction of a second, all was still. The rain hissed. The trees swayed. Mud and blood clung heavy in the air.Then the assassin jerked. The knife slipped from his grip, falling into the muck with a dull thud.His body went rigid, eyes wide in shock, before he staggered backward, clutching his side. Blood poured between his fingers, dark and hot, mixing with the rain.Selene’s arms dropped, the pistol slipping from her trembling hands. She slumped against the roots of the oak, chest heaving, eyes barely open. Her lips moved soundlessly, too weak to speak.Fowler lay sprawled in the mud, gasping, chest rising and falling as he stared at the assassin. He forced himself up, every muscle screaming, blood streaming from his wounds. His gaze cut to Selene still alive, still breathing, but fading fast.And then the assassin laughed.It was a broken sound, wet with blood, but it carried in the storm. He straigh
Chapter Forty-Six – Between Trust and Death
The rain had turned the clearing into a mire of blood and mud, the storm pounding like war drums. Fowler crouched low, one arm locked around Selene, her breath shallow and uneven against his chest.His rifle pressed firm into his shoulder, sight lined straight at the scarred stranger’s heart.Dozens of rifles gleamed from the trees, all pointed inward. The men moved with precision disciplined, silent, deadly. Not mercenaries. Soldiers. Elite.The stranger didn’t waver under Fowler’s aim. He stood calm, his scarred face unreadable, his own weapon held loose at his side. His eyes, cold and sharp, lingered on Selene.“She’s slipping,” the man said. “Every second you waste aiming at me, she bleeds more. You know I’m right.”Fowler’s jaw clenched. His gaze flicked down to Selene’s wound blood still flowing despite the pressure he applied earlier. Her lips were pale, her eyelids fluttering. If he didn’t act soon, she’d be gone.He raised his eyes back to the man. “You think I’ll just hand h
Chapter Forty-Seven – Crossfire(3)
The clearing became a crucible of hellfire. Muzzle flashes tore through the storm, deafening cracks of gunfire shattering the night.Bullets ripped into trees, split bark, tore through flesh. Screams echoed, swallowed by thunder and rain.Fowler dropped flat, his body curling around Selene, his rifle angled just enough to fire back. Every muscle screamed in protest, wounds burning, blood loss dragging at his strength, but adrenaline lit him like a furnace.The scarred stranger barked orders, his men scattering for cover. Half of them fell within seconds, crimson visors slicing through their formation like blades. The other half regrouped, forming a perimeter around the oak where Selene lay.And Vivienne was everywhere. She moved like smoke, gliding between trees, her sidearm flashing in precise bursts.Three of the scarred man’s soldiers dropped before they even knew she was there. Rain streamed down her face, hair plastered to her skin, eyes gleaming with something sharp, hungry, ali
Chapter Forty-Eight – The Impossible Choice
The world narrowed to the space between Fowler’s trigger and the storm.Rain hammered down in sheets, lightning throwing jagged light across the clearing. Dozens of rifles pointed inward, two armies frozen in a standoff.Selene’s breath rattled faintly against Fowler’s chest, her blood soaking into him, warm and terrifyingly steady.On one side: the scarred stranger, crouched in the mud, pistol leveled, eyes burning with grim intent. His men, tense but disciplined, waited for his word.He had stabilized Selene once already, and though Fowler didn’t trust him, the proof of his skill lay in her still living body.On the other side: Vivienne Hale. Her cracked visor gleamed under the stormlight, her gaze locked on Fowler with a hunger that unsettled him to the bone.Her strike team stood like shadows behind her, weapons ready, but her confidence told Fowler she didn’t need them. She wanted him. And she wanted Selene out of the way.Selene stirred, her weak hand twitching against his arm.
Chapter Forty-Nine – One Bullet
Mud clung to Fowler’s knees as he forced himself upright, Selene cradled against his chest. His breath came ragged, blood seeping from too many wounds to count, his vision a blur at the edges.The forest clearing glowed red from the flare still burning overhead, smoke from the explosion choking the air. Trees groaned as fire ate at them. Bodies lay scattered, broken, faceless in the mud.And through the haze, two figures came. Vivienne. The scarred man. Opposite sides, same destination: him.Selene. Fowler’s rifle felt heavy in his hands, slick with blood. He tilted it up, sighting down the barrel. Only one round left. He could feel it in the chamber like a heartbeat.Vivienne’s eyes burned through the storm, lips curved in that sharp, wolfish smile. Her pistol was steady, but her gaze was on him, not his weapon. On him, as though she could already taste his surrender.The scarred man strode from the smoke, pistol raised, his soldiers dead or scattered. His expression was carved from
Chapter Fifty – The Circle Tightens
Darkness swallowed the forest as the flare hissed out, leaving only firelight licking at the edges of the clearing. Smoke hung low, curling through the trees, carrying the stink of burned flesh and gunpowder.Fowler crouched low, Selene cradled tight against him. Her body was frighteningly limp, her skin cold despite the heat of blood soaking his arms. Her breath came in ragged threads, shallow and uneven.His rifle was dead weight now. Empty. One bullet spent, and with it his last gamble.Vivienne knelt ten yards away, one hand pressed against her side, blood spilling between her fingers. Even wounded, her smile lingered, crooked, wild, unbroken.Her pistol hung loose at her side, not dropped, never dropped. Her eyes stayed fixed on him, glinting in the firelight, as if the bullet that tore through her meant nothing at all.The scarred man was down too, one knee in the mud, teeth bared in pain. Blood streamed from a crease along his shoulder, dark and thick, but his grip on his pisto