Berserk Griffith Torture Novels & Stories

I tried calling, trembling and not recognizing him any more, because the Griffin I knew, always grinned at me but right now, he looked like death, beckoning me, it was my time. He even punched his best friend. Was the pet that important? 'What was I going to do?' I wondered, having a feeling that I was so going to die for a crime I didn't commit. Ryker, right now was just on his knees to the floor, blood gushing out from his nose where Griffin had hit him. He just knelt there, silently, shaking his head sideways like he was feeling sorry for me or was he in disbelief? His hot breath was the next thing I felt on my face, making me flinch, fear crawling into me, before his hand reached forward

“ It was my pack mates they were acting unruly, so I taught them why they should not act like idiots. Don’t read too much into the situation.” “I am not surprised that you snapped on them, I was sure that one of these days, you were going to lose it,” Elder Griffiths’ frown deepened only further as he remembered the little boy who once killed dark witches with his bare hands. “ Why did you punish them though? I need to be prepared in case they come here to complain against you.”

They only had their bloodshot eyes on the dangerous Noah, their will trying as hard as it could to mask their fear. The teen's face showed no change. His hands balled to form a fist as he assumed another stance. Berserk Tiger's Punch! The unlucky person to receive that furious fist coughed up a large amount of blood as that punch directly ruptured her heart. Noah's actions didn't stop as he caught a fist flying towards him. His body twisted as he threw the owner of that fist upwards before slamming them down on the ground so hard, they were engraved into it. It was unknown if that person was alive or not.

"Do you want to harm him seriously?" Ash replied, "I know what I'm doing. He won't die." Griffith couldn't be bothered to argue with this stubborn mule. Approaching from the side, he climbed onto the boxing ring and observed Freddie. Accustomed to being beaten since childhood, Freddie, upon seeing Griffith, curled the corner of his bruised mouth into a semblance of a smile. "Griffith, you seem to be in a good mood." Ash also looked over. Griffith's demeanor appeared calm and ordinary, but those familiar with him could sense his good mood.

I struggled against his chest with my hands while berserkly kicking his legs with my feet but nothing worked for he remained unfazed with his rugged body hovering over my trembling one. I shifted my face to the side with horror of situation conquering me and he took to his advantage rather he probably thought I was giving him my submission for less than in a moment he penetrated his teeth deep into my neck and an ear-piercing scream cuts past my throat to the excruciating pain that overcomes me. The one I had gone through when I was wedded to them was nowhere closer to this.

It wasn't pain; it was theft. My knees buckled. The golden aura of my gravity field flickered and died, vacuumed into the black hole of his presence. I felt my strength—the years of training, the Highblood vitality, the very will to maintain my posture—flowing out of my pores like cold sweat. My muscles felt like dry leaves, brittle and hollow. "Barzil!" Viggo choked out. I looked at the Berserker. He was shrinking. His massive muscles were deflating in real-time. His red eyes were dimming to a dull, muddy brown. He fell to his hands and knees. He retched—a wet, agonizing sound of bile hitting stone.

I gazed down at his broad, hairy chest, which was now covered in bruises. Wolves healed quickly, but not after taking such heavy punishment. I’d made sure that Boris had pummeled Griff with his full strength, so he could dismiss Malachi’s blows and win the challenge. “Come on.” I grabbed his hand and stepped into the warm water. “You really need to soak.” Griff entered the bath after me, and we lowered ourselves onto its stone base. He squeezed his eyes shut and hissed. “Are you sure this concoction is supposed to heal?”

Stuart turned to glare at me furiously like I were some hysterical woman making a scene. He scolded, "Veronica, look at what you've become! What's the point of throwing a tantrum now? What's done is done!" His cold words made it sound like my grandfather, Alfred Gallagher, was just dealing with a common cold and not waiting for brain surgery. I stared at the man I'd been married to for over a decade, feeling my heart sink drastically. "Have you forgotten how Creed Group was built from the ground up? Have you forgotten it was Grandpa who took a knife for you when you were kidnapped? The wound from then still hurts from time to time for him!