Bloody Vengeance Novels & Stories

“I sacrificed everything for you, from my looks, my health, my family, and nearly my life!” Keva slid her hands over the vanity, throwing everything to the ground. When I smelt the scent of blood, I rushed forward, unable to hold back. Taking her hand in mine, I noticed the cut on her hand. I wanted to help her and cover the wound, but she pulled her hand away and shoved me back. “Don’t touch me! I am disgusting!” Keva screamed.

"My father had general anesthesia. How could he avoid it? You scum! You killed my father, and now you want to frame others?" He lunged at her with the knife and stabbed her repeatedly. Her blood splattered onto the face of Herman, who screamed and tried to bolt. The attacker grabbed him and sliced him in the back until the police arrived. They quickly subdued the man. Herman and Giselle were not killed. They were still breathing, though barely. The incident was streamed live online, causing a huge uproar. Everyone began defending Herman and Giselle. [I heard Dr. Fisher is a heart disease expert, and now his tendons have been severed. People waiting for heart transplants will be unable to get

The second attempted to attack from my left. I caught his throat and threw him into three more warriors. Bones shattered. Bodies dropped. A fourth lunged. My fangs sank into his shoulder. His scream disappeared beneath the roar of battle. I threw him aside and kept moving. There was no hesitation. No mercy. No guilt. Only war. Only vengeance. Only fury. Silver energy burst from my hands. A wave of moonlight ripped through an entire line of enemy soldiers. The force launched them backward. Bodies crashed into the ground.

The deafening, chaotic roars of the border battle slowly began to fade, replaced by the heavy, suffocating crackle of burning military trucks and the thick stench of wet mud and blood. I stood entirely frozen in the center of the crimson-stained trench, my chest heaving in ragged, shallow gasps as the adrenaline slowly drained from my veins. My hands were trembling violently, but my grip remained tightly locked around the hilt of the silver blade. The edge of the weapon was dripping with the dark blood of the two warriors I had just ruthlessly killed. I wasn't a helpless victim anymore. I was a weapon of pure vengeance, and watching Alpha Richard’s front-line vanguard crumble beneath our b

Intricate tribal tattoos swirled across his chest and down his arms, telling the story of a thousand battles. ‎ ‎In his right hand, he dragged a massive, curved blade, a falchion made of dull, dark iron. It carved a trench in the gravel as he walked. ‎ ‎The Butcher. ‎ ‎Vance was standing between the stranger and the car, his gun raised. But Vance was trembling so hard the weapon shook. ‎ ‎"Stop!" Vance screamed, his voice cracking. "This is a Bloodmoon transport! You are violating the—" ‎ ‎He didn't stop. He didn't even slow down.

And my hand wrapped itself around something sharp lying next to me on the bed. Just as he was about to point the gun at me, I jumped off the bed and slapped it away from his hand, while at the same time, I plunged the broken glass from the lamp, into his throat. Blood oozed from his throat and from his mouth and I pushed him away till he dropped on the floor. Dead. I thought by this point, I should be freaking out by now because I just killed someone with my bare hands which I thought that will never happen in a million years yet here I am, standing in front of a dead body lying in a bloody puddle on the floor.

The rogue grits out. Killian then slashes the knife down on the rogue’s shoulder, cutting through the skin and muscle. The rogue can’t hold back the scream of pain, and it shakes the dungeon causing dust to fall from the ceiling. “Why are you coming onto MY pack territory?” My father asks, having just picked up the syringe of wolfsbane. The knife wound may hurt, but wolfsbane is something that will feel like a thousand suns burning through your skin, roasting your skin from the inside out. The rogue casts a weary glance at the syringe my father is holding in his hand.

that he would reach the point where he would one by one erase my family from the world because of his selfishness. So, now that I was lucky enough to survive the accident I faced to escape my demon husband, I would really use the miracle that happened to me to get up and start again. And when the time is right, I will return to them. I will return him to pay for his arrears to me. "When he returned to this country, we welcomed him with cruel karma. I will take Sarah back and I will make that family suffer the deluge they made me suffer. Because the moment we face each other once again, they will taste how sweet my vengeance is.”

The first call I made was short and precise. “I need everything you can find on a man named Silas. Connected to the old trafficking establishment that burned years ago. The one that no longer exists on paper.” “How deep?” “As deep as it goes. Survivors. Associates. Anyone who walked out of that fire.” “Understood.” I ended the call and sat at the desk. Vincent had repeated the name during his episode. Over and over. Like it was the only thing his mind could hold onto while everything else fell apart.

"Look at her! Look at Jarrah! They are framing me right in front of your blind, foolish eyes!" "Enough!" Banjo roared, stepping around his desk, his hand reaching out and grabbing my throat in a firm, suffocating grip. He didn't choke me, but his fingers pressed firmly against my jaw, trapping me in place. "I gave you my name! I kept you safe! And you sold my life's work to my greatest enemy out of pure, bitter jealousy!" I looked straight into his eyes, refusing to let a single tear fall. "You are a fool, Banjo Vance. A blind, arrogant fool."