Angel Of Distruction Novels & Stories

There’s a strange clarity to my anger—a focus that makes every sense sharper, every movement precise. The moment I reach the edge of the hideout, I don’t stop to think. I kick down the door, wood splintering under the force of my boot, and I step inside, feeling every ounce of anger, every piece of heartbreak, flood through me like a dam breaking. The witches turn, eyes wide with shock, but I don’t give them a chance to scream.

I think his name was Theo or something. His hair was wet and he only had a towel wrapped lose on his lower area. He looked very hot and angry. And oh he had some nice abs too. Wait is that some eight packs I see? Holy cow! He has eight packs and some ripped muscles too. As much as I wanted to look away, the drops of water on his chest trailing down to his v-line was calling on to me. Literally.

"Don't you think it's also embarrassing to break up with me in front of everyone? You're really something," I shot back. I was ready to leave, but he grabbed my arm. At that moment, I wondered if I should have had my eyes checked back then. How had I ever found him appealing? "That's enough now. You are being rude." My anger was rising, yet he still clung to my hand stubbornly. When I turned around, I was taken aback.

prologue It was peaceful and wonderful in Angel’s empire, trumpets were singing, clouds were dancing and angels were peacefully resting but a sudden appearance of Kram, stopped their calm and peaceful empire. Kram, was the Archangel, highest above all angels. His wings were like billion of stars when it shines, too stunning that you couldn’t turn your eyes away, it was heavenliness that could warm one’s heart in just one glance.

These flashes had happened several times and they were all blurry. But this time, they were crystal clear. Parts of his past life flashed before him and of the young woman whose face had always been blurred and whose face he would have killed to clearly behold. But, this time, he could see her face clearly and it was a very familiar face. His Laura. His Carrot. His Angel. He felt different. He felt as if he had been reborn. His eyes found them again. This time she had a small smile on her face and was slowly but hesitantly giving the bastard her hand to slide in the ring.

Break the rules and we kill you, why sugarcoat it? Before Hexton can get another word out, one of the competitors steps forward, frantically unzipping the back of her bodysuit and pulling her headpiece off revealing her face to a shocked crowd. She’s new to The Tournament and goes by the codename Azrael, named after the Angel of Death because that is exactly what she is. She prefers to give people painless deaths, allowing them to just go peacefully in their sleep. I feel perhaps Hexton invited her this year just to shake things up. The fact she gives people such painless deaths indicates an amount of compassion many of us don’t possess, which doesn’t make her suited for this type of thing a

I tore off his tie and pressed it against his wound, trying to stop the bleeding. “Hold on. I’ll call an ambulance.” “No… I can feel it… I’m not going to make it…” He lifted his ruined left hand and, with blood-soaked fingers, touched my face. “Rachel… can you forgive me?” I sighed and said, “I forgive you, Victor Medici.” A brilliant light exploded in his eyes, like he was burning through the last of his life. “I love you… Rachel… I really do… One last time… I want to hear you say it again… say you love me…”

Jeremy asked reading a lot of resentment in Ethan's reply. "The day you quit your college behaviour," Ethan replied. "Ethan, that is enough don't you think? It was just a one-time mistake I made must you relate every circumstance to it?" Jeremy asked irritated "One time you say? I didn't know you have dementia as part of your disease," Ethan replied with traces of anger in his voice. "Ethan, you have one more time to insult me and you will meet my fist," Jeremy warned. "Better get your fist ready to meet my claws because I am just warning up you douchebag," Ethan said facing Jeremy squarely.

It hurt worse than any gunshot wound he had ever experienced. He could barely control the anger that coursed through his veins, he felt like ripping Xavier apart till he was nothing more than pounds of flesh. The thought of killing Xavier calmed his anger a bit as he fantasized about the different ways he could kill Xavier. He took another swig from the bottle and stood up. "Let's go, I have no time to waste." He said and walked out. ******

They were both oblivious to the pictures that were being taken of them. Lifting his head, he smiled at Taz. “I have something for you.” Angel handed him the white shirt box. He opened it and removed the cut, letting the box and tissue paper fall to the ground. The first thing that she saw was that it was not her cut, and yet it was. The center patch was newer, the devil, who now had multicolored braids, sat on the motorcycle with a halo hanging haphazardly on the left horn, giant angel wings flowed out behind him. The bottom rocker declared her to be Sinners Daughter and the top one proclaimed her as The Devil Herself.