A Rage To Live Novel Novels & Stories

Deep inside, he knew what brought him this outcome. 'A simple disagreement...yet so decisive...' If he knew this would be the outcome, he would have never rejected that person's offer. [Ambush] Rage was using this skill for the first time. He then lowered his gaze to his body. There were five long slashes that practically slashed his body through the bones. Rage was aware that if his master did not bless him, he would perish. ... I listened to Rage's account in the tavern. "Since he's dead, someone has to take the blame," I added, nodding slightly.

Rage unlike anything I'd felt—even when killing Marcus—flooded through me. They'd taken my mate. On the day she was supposed to come home. After everything we'd survived. Everything we'd fought for. They. Would. Pay. Every single one of them. I'd tear them apart. Burn the world down. Whatever it took. Mandy was mine. And I was coming for her. **TO BE CONTINUED...** *Just when Tyler and Mandy were about to reunite after seventy-five days of healing and growth, a coordinated rogue attack tears them apart again. Now Tyler must rescue his mate from wolves who've targeted her specifically—and the real question is: who planned this attack, and why now?*

But then I searched closer to the surface for a reminder of why I was still alive and that’s when I felt the rage that burned like a scorching fire and I closed my eyes and touched the flame, letting it be the center of everything I was right now. I needed the anger to stay alive and to survive this. I don't know what Darian expected to happen now; we’d go back home to the palace and I would be his docile little fuck puppet? He not only removed the last tethers to my humanity, the only people I hung onto, my baby sister who hadn't even started her life, but he also awoke a rage that you can’t feel until you stop pushing away the things that make you truly crazy.

Lyra’s POV: Rage never came to Lyra in bursts. Like all her emotions, it simmered and burned, and it lasted just enough to settle deep into her bones until it became something colder and far more dangerous. And when she woke up this morning, the rage was unbearable. She dressed up quickly and stared at her reflection in the mirror with rage in her eyes. Of course, she was as perfect as always, not one strand of hair was out of place on her head, but she still couldn't see her reflection without feeling the need to scream and curse at herself.

Will these 2 people ever come across each other, will that wall of ice ever melt with the warmness of kindness, will the man with too much hatred and too little love ever claim his possession, on the women with too little hatred and so much of love? Is this actually what made their lives encounter RUTHLESS LOVE or it is a way to some other destination? To know further make a read and join them in their RUTHLESS or I would say, beautiful journey. Love xxxxxxxx Purva Narang (YOUR WRITER) Follow for more updates: Instagram: @purvi_nrang Twitter: @narang_purva

His words and smile brought a degree of unease to Abe’s heart. “He’s called Rage because in uncomfortable situations, he grows crazy – and super strong.” As if on cue a powerful aura broke out from within the barrier, and Abe’s expression changed.

"And killed everything on our side." "And fed the rage enough to become something more than rage." Haley's pink glow intensified. "Jack, the rage is not just an emotional echo anymore. Three days of energy transfer have given it substance. It is becoming. Not alive. Not conscious. But substantial. Like a shadow that has been fed enough light to cast its own shadow."

Rage. It wasn’t a wave; it was an explosion. A supernova detonating behind my ribs, incinerating shock, fear, guilt, everything but a pure, white-hot fury that turned the air to ash in my lungs. It flooded my veins, burned my vision crimson at the edges, vibrated in my clenched fists. After months of freedom, of rebuilding, of carefully stitching myself back together, shattered in the space of a single heartbeat by the man standing before me, cloaked in the obscene disguise of a benefactor.

pit of my stomach. My whole body began to buzz with energy and my pale skin began to look like a veiny net as dark bulging veins appeared on it. I felt as though I was no longer in control of my body anymore. The wound in my chest started to clot up and formed a hard rock at the center like a turtle shell with purple veiny lights across it. I lay my mothers head down gently and closed the distance between me and the hedgehog magi under a second. My hands grabbed hold of her neck like they had a life of their own. Was I going to kill this woman? My grip softened a bit, but then my head snapped involuntarily to see my mother’s lifeless body on my bedroom floor. She deserved to die an honorabl

I sat there at my desk in the gray morning light of the penthouse and I looked at my hands and I breathed very carefully because what I was feeling was not something I had vocabulary for. Rage was part of it. The cold, contained kind of rage that I was actually very familiar with. The kind that didn't burn but sat heavy and permanent like iron, settled into the chest and stayed there. I'd felt this kind of rage exactly three times in my life before today. When I was nineteen and I came home early from school and found my mother packing a suitcase, her lover waiting downstairs, her decision already made and immovable. When I was twenty-six and I discovered my father had deliberately undercut