A Rage To Live Novel Novels & Stories

… Later on, my best friend told me how Clara aged at lightning speed and ultimately had to rely on expensive medical equipment to stay alive. Mirabelle, on the other hand, insisted on having Marcus' baby despite the scandal. However, because she was a woman of advanced maternal age who never went for prenatal checkups, her child was born with Down syndrome. She took her son to fight for the Pembroke family's inheritance, but they refused to acknowledge him and even sent Marcus to Rivora to lie low. With nowhere else to turn, she went online to livestream her sob story. The feud between them blew up so badly that it eventually made national news.

Rage claws through me, violent and absolute. This isn’t over. Not by a long shot.

The moment I burst through the protective barrier my mind put up, a smile creeps up on my physical face, as the realization of how I can fight slams into my forefront. Rage is the key, it is the very essence of the destruction from storms, the fuel that fires the explosion of volcanoes, and the earth-scorching lava that destroys all in its path. I will raise the temperature of my core with my fury-filled lava. I will torch every molecule of Kali's dick, leaving him with a digit that he will never be able to use again!

No love or hatred was needed between them for him to come back to life. Alex put his legs down to the cold floor and stood up. He was shirtless and Rielle couldn't help but admire his well physique body. Realizing she was staring too much, she swallowed hard and looked away but it was too late as Alex noticed. He said nothing but his eyes were on her, dark, cold, fury, every words that described someone who was like a living dead, was what she would describe his eyes. The distant cold stare that bore into her made every beauty she had admire disappeared from his eyes.

RONAN What was this rage burning inside my chest? It wasn’t just fury. Fury, I understood. This was something darker. Wilder. Filthier. And it erupted the moment he dared to spew filth about her. I had killed before, without pause, without guilt. Age, gender, race... none of it ever mattered. All I saw was the life I needed to take. But this bastard? I wanted more than his life. I wanted his heart in my hand, still beating, when I crushed it.

So what are you going to do about it? Die here? Let him win? Or survive? And make him regret ever walking away? I floated. Deciding. Live or die. Surrender or fight. Let them win Or become something they'll regret creating. The anger wasn't love. Wasn't hope. It wasn't anything noble. It was pure. Cold. Rage. And it was enough. Enough to grab onto. Enough to climb. Enough to want to survive.

Rage Unprecedented rage consumes my senses and I know he has done the biggest mistake and probably the last mistake of his life because he laid a hand on what is Jarek's. Me, my heart, and my body all belongs to Jarek, and this bastard just dared to violate that limit. Before he can put his hand on me, I push him away with a force that even surprises me. "You shouldn't have done this John." Glaring at him, I slowly shake my head, "You shouldn't have done this." I don't bother to cover myself as anger flows through my veins like a hot lava.

I wanted to respond, to tell him it wasn’t his fault, but the darkness pulled at me, and I slipped away into unconsciousness. Rage. I was drowning in boiling, scalding rage that felt like lava flowing through my veins, ready to erupt like a volcano. A rage I had never experienced until I walked into that room. The image needed to be bleached from my mind to obliterate that moment as if it had never existed. My hands tightened around her frail body; I wanted to Hulk out and rip the fucker’s skin off in shreds. The urge to kill had never felt this strong—to kill each one of those fuckers.

Ever since I had first shifted at the age of twelve -which was quite early for a werewolf- Rage had only ever come out when I was furious. I had first met Rage when I first shifted after the massacre of my pack. We never really spoke much but we were very much in tune and I never brought him out unless necessary. For lack of a better way to describe him, Rage was terrifying. With his midnight black fur and crimson red eyes, he had earned his name and his reputation as the most dangerous and deadly wolf in the East. And up until that day, he had never tried to come out without me bringing him. “What is wrong?” I asked him, glad that he was much calmer. “You almost hurt Nana”, I all but scolde

Alpha Kai Rage is a living thing. It coils in my chest, hot and suffocating, crawling beneath my skin like fire ants with teeth. Every breath I take tastes like ash and humiliation. Every step echoes with the knowledge that I was played outmaneuvered by my own right hand, betrayed under my own roof, weakened in the eyes of my pack. Jackson and Aliya.