A Rage To Live Novel Novels & Stories

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

I ignore the blood gushing from my body as I race around, slashing at anything that moves. Rage completely takes over my body as I go into a frenzy, tearing the bodies of the men who slaughtered the Rocky Mountain Pack and killed my other half, into tiny pieces and throwing them around the camp. The smell of fresh blood urges Rage to continue with her killing spree, running around gleefully in search of anyone left alive that she can tear into.

… White light flashed, and I returned to the real world. I was back in my old apartment. Everything felt like a long dream. I looked at myself in the mirror. My image felt familiar, yet strange. In that world, I had felt the depths of hate and the thrill of revenge. Everything had settled into a quiet calm. My phone buzzed with a news alert. [Genius pianist Xavier Zane announces a global tour. Tickets sold out instantly!] I froze. Xavier Zane? I clicked on the article and saw a face that I could never forget.

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.

Maybe you should give topics that will keep you alive. "Can you give me a good reason why that name is so important to you?" She asked and I inhaled and exhaled slowly. This was one of the reasons I killed. "I'm not gonna answer you scarecrow." I replied and she smiled kindly at me. "Perhaps I could call you that so I'll know what really happens," she said and I stood up. Curiosity kills the cat bitch. "Don't you dare say it." I ordered and she smiled at me. "Rage," she said softly and I snapped. I screamed in anger and ran into her, punching her mercilessly as she gasped for breath. No one calls me Rage.

His Wolves were strong and so they would fight against anything they thought might harm him, alcohol included ' You should just accept it ' Rage said. Asher had named him that because he was the fiercest of all three Wolves that lived rent-free inside his head. Rage was the Wolf Form he usually took whenever fighting against enemies. The Wolf was strong, with dark brown fur and piercing red eyes, he was known as ' Death ' by his enemies because he didn't leave any survivors whenever he went on a Rampage. It took Asher years to be able to control Rage properly, even then he still lost control sometimes. ' She is going to be ours either way. You can save your Sister's love from getting his thr

"The war that goes on for decades is destroying everything for the next generation. Everyone is tired, but nobody can do anything about it. Everyone wants to flee to a quiet place where they can lead a peaceful and happy life without fear of losing anything, but this is almost impossible due to everyone's selfishness. Everyone is selfish and greedy for their happy life while destroying others, but they do not know, this is not how it works. The same thing happened years ago, everyone wanted happiness for their kingdom after destroying others, they were blinded by wealth and power, and what mattered to them was only their protection after endangering the lives of thousands of innocent people.

I'm contemplating whether to read it or not, but I still find myself clicking on it. I just wanted to stop in the first part of the report. It recounts Femella's life after the death of her parents. She worked at a fast food chain as a part-timer while studying in college. She lived in a slum with no family and no money. She has no one to protect her.

“So the dead king rises. How long before you collapse under the weight of what you lost?” The words should have rattled me, but rage is steadier than grief. Rage is honest. I gripped my blade tighter, letting the fury burn through the ache still festering in my bones. The first monster lunged. My body moved before thought could catch it, instincts screaming awake. Steel sliced through brittle ribs, and the thing shattered into ash and bone-dust that stung my throat. Another beast snapped from behind, claws catching my shoulder. Pain flared, sharp and hot. I welcomed it—it proved I was alive.

I need to keep her safe even as she tries fighting my way out of my grip. “Why is he not falling? Keep shooting!” Nico orders from wherever he is safely. “A useless Fae should not take more than ten arrows before falling dead. Stop embarrassing me, guards, and do your jobs.” The arrows keep coming, one even pierces through my head but my will to stand… to protect Katniss overwhelms me. More than the pain the arrow brings me, I feel an intense rage inside of me. One I have never felt before, not even when Olivia was taken away. It’s the kind of rage that makes me want to breathe in a way I have never done before. The kind of rage that makes my body vibrate with an energy that I have never tho