Novel & Cerita Angry Pucca

Chapter 47 "What the heck are you doing there?" Pocco exclaimed at Sheira. She gave him an ignorant look as she played with her hair, rolling them on the tip of her fingers. "Sheira? Are you just going to ignore me like this?" he said and Sheira groaned, annoyed by his reaction. "What?! You're annoying, Pocco, can't you just stop scolding me?" she said. "I won't, cause you look like a maniac in there, just a few minutes ago!" the tone of his voice began to raise that the nurse passing by couldn't help but look at them.

How dare he again call me and barks nonsense! I punched the steering wheel again and again, screaming in frustration. A car bumped into mine, catching me off-guard. “Go to hell!!” I bumped the side of my car into the opponent and sent his car to the side, crashing in the fence. “How dare you fúcker!! I will kill you one day!!” I shouted, gripping the steering wheel. My anger was out of my control and I couldn't do anything. “Sweetheart, can you hear me?” Romeo's voice came in my ears, calming my anger before I crashed the third car as he was bumping his car on my car's back.

Dante growled. Chuckling, "yes, the anger. We have to work on your temper. We can't have you threatening or snapping people's necks." Straightening out his jacket, "let us continue." Dante was furious that he took out the anger on a nearby wall, punching strongly into it, breaking apart. His eyes briefly glowed, revealing an amber golden color. It was like a sharp sunset. He was snarling, his wolf trying to break out. Dante didn't like being controlled or manipulated in any way. He was used to playing cards. Maybe Declan was soon going to get himself or Dante killed.

Wearing nothing but matching pajamas. But either way, I don’t really care. You see, I've been such an unfortunate case all of my life that I have forgotten this feeling for a very, very, long time. Anger. I am really angry, no, furious that my own future family would dare say such things. I’ve never felt this angry before. Not towards my bullies, not towards Clarence, not anyone. Yet, Luca is incredibly good at pushing someone’s buttons. I should have been mad at him and yelled at him that he was wrong. My mother isn’t like that!

If the thing had been easily bendable, it would have been crushed by now. Luca was seething. The rage he felt throbbed against his veins and he knew he had to get out of there before he killed his cousin in front of their clients. He glanced at Jace who was still playing poker and grinning like a cat, unaware of the video in his hands. He wanted to march over there and punch him till his face caved in but he couldn’t do that, not with the people they had in their presence and it made his blood boil that he had to control the anger in his system.

Anger surged through me, causing my hand to clench tightly, and I momentarily shut my eyes, attempting to quell the rising rage. "Buco del culo!" I cursed under my breath, employing a newly learned Italian profanity that had caught my attention while perusing the language course. I knew Antonio couldn't have heard my muttering; his ears were unlikely to be so keen. Nevertheless, he turned towards me, a hint of amusement evident on his face, as he casually tightened his grip on me.

What if his absurd accusation gets little support? “Gosh! I don’t understand: What’s your problem? If I flirt with other men, that’s none of your business? Ain’t I right?” Her words hit him like a blister on his skin, making him feel the urge to push her away from him. Anger covers him from every angle. “Warning!” “Excuse me! This is my lif—“ she can’t complete her sentence. “F**k your life!” A wave of shock courses through her after witnessing his explosive anger which darts a realization that protesting in such a situation would be an ill-advised decision. As his rage intensifies, the atmosphere transforms into one of palpable horror. With a steady gaze, Rosalia studies him intently, her f

When the puck dropped, I didn’t just play; I went to war. I was emotionally exhausted, my heart was literally breaking, and the only outlet I had for the massive, chaotic storm of anger and hurt swirling inside me was the ice beneath my skates. Every time I touched the puck, I played with a reckless, feral aggression that I’d never used before. I wasn’t just skating; I was flying, my blades carving deep, violent grooves into the fresh ice. When their defenseman tried to pinch me along the boards, I didn’t dodge him; I dropped my shoulder and slammed him into the plexiglass hard enough to rattle the glass, stealing the puck and accelerating down the ice.

Quinn's words echoed in my mind, his frustration mirroring my own. "Well, maybe if you were a better mate, he wouldn't have needed me today," Peach sneered, snapping me back to the situation happening before me. Before I could react, the sound of bones cracking filled the air as Angel shifted. Unprepared, I stumbled and fell to the ground, the wooden floorboards splintering beneath me. With a ferocious growl, Angel lunged at Peach. Instinctively, I dove in front of Peach, trying to shield her from my mate's attack. Angel's massive, red paw swiped at her with claws out, narrowly missing her as I took the blunt of the blow.

Even from this distance, I could tell he was angry because he was practically vibrating. In front of him stood a player. The coach was speaking rapidly while the player remained silent. Or at least mostly silent. His expression looked anything but calm. Actually, he looked annoyed. No. Annoyed wasn't the right word. Pissed off. That was the right word, the player looked completely pissed off. His jaw was clenched and his shoulders were tense. Every part of him practically screamed irritation. It honestly looked less like a conversation and more like a hostage situation, eventually the coach threw his hands into the air and stormed away.