Bitter Rage Novels & Stories

Something snapped inside me. The grief, the panic, the unbearable sorrow—they twisted into something else. Something dark. Rage. Anger so deep, so pure, it flooded my entire being. Mac rose, his growl shaking the air around us. The pain of the bond breaking, of Ivy slipping away—it ignited a fire in my chest, a rage so powerful I could hardly contain it

"I like blue. I think you like blue too, don't you?" I had been trying to get to know more about him; this was a great time to know more about each other. And the only things I got him to confess about himself within the past half hour was that, a) he liked the color black. And blue, I think. b) he hated saying thank-yous to people who pissed him off. c) he had really bad anger issues. I think he mentioned killing a guy on spot when he hadn't stopped blabbering—which was probably a lie; he was just trying to get me to shut up.

“Please, it’ll only make it worse!” I stop, knowing she’s right. Mama Bear wants to come out, clawed paws swinging, but my anger won’t scare away the entitled bitches who are responsible for bullying my daughter. Leaning back against my seat, I inhale and slowly let my breath out. Nothing can prepare you for becoming a mother—especially when you become one when you’re still a kid yourself—and nothing prepares you on how to handle something like this. I’m fighting a maelstrom of emotions and I want so desperately to break something.

Fury surged through my veins, a primal rage that threatened to consume me entirely. Without hesitation, I made my way to the meeting with Beta King Tyler's family without much expectations of what they had to say. Anger burned within me, fueling my every step even when I tried to control myself. The storm brewing inside mirrored the tempest raging outside as if the elements themselves sensed the turmoil within my soul. The wind howled and the rain poured down relentlessly, amplifying the intensity of the situation.

Lucifer sat by the crackling fireplace, surrounded by the warmth of the flames. Despite the comforting atmosphere, an aura of rage surrounded him. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tight and his eyes burning with anger. Lucian's and Alexa's moans ignited the fire within him. His face twisted into a scowl as he seethed with frustration. He couldn't contain the fury that coursed through his veins. It took every bit of restraint not to barge into the room and sever Lucian's head from his body.

My heart pounds, rage simmering beneath the surface. I stand, my vision narrowing as a single thought consumes me. “Revenge,” I snarl, my voice low and venomous. “It is then.”

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

Okay maybe I wasn't expecting anything because of course I didn't even know what to make of it, but hearing Bliss talk about how brutal and savage her whole life has been snapped up something inside of me. Rage. Rage with a capital 'R', I didn't even know I could get annoyed to the extent of wanting to find the bastards that made her life miserable and finish them on the spot. Well, I think I know... It is the kind of Rage I feel when I think about my parents... How they were murdered before my very eyes, and how I will crush those murderers in between my fingers into flickers of dust as if they never existed.

Pure, unadulterated rage consumed his entire being. ​"You worthless piece of trash! How dare you lay a finger on Angeline!"

Roric shrugged, "It comes from overpowering anger. The name rage comes fr there. It's fueled by emotion. By fury. By—" "By loss of control." I said it quietly. Both of them stopped. I leaned forward in my chair. The wheels creaked—just slightly—and the sound seemed to fill the room. "Do you know," I said, "how a Rage Wolf gets its name?" Tavish's brow furrowed. "I just said—"