Born Of A Broken Man Rage Against The Machine Novels & Stories

He’d set the stage perfectly, backing me into a corner where I had no choice but to fight, and now he was sitting back to enjoy the show. And maybe it was the poison in the air, maybe it was the sting of my cheek, maybe it was years of being pulled like a marionette by men who had shaped every bar of my prison, but something in me snapped. Something fundamental and irreparable broke apart, and in its place rose something harder, sharper, more dangerous. I lifted my chin, forcing my gaze to meet my father’s even as tears blurred the edges of him, even as my heart hammered against my ribs like a caged bird. “You want a punishment? Fine. Here’s mine.”

But then I searched closer to the surface for a reminder of why I was still alive and that’s when I felt the rage that burned like a scorching fire and I closed my eyes and touched the flame, letting it be the center of everything I was right now. I needed the anger to stay alive and to survive this. I don't know what Darian expected to happen now; we’d go back home to the palace and I would be his docile little fuck puppet? He not only removed the last tethers to my humanity, the only people I hung onto, my baby sister who hadn't even started her life, but he also awoke a rage that you can’t feel until you stop pushing away the things that make you truly crazy.

“Why did you do this to us?” Her lips trembled, blood bubbling at the edges. “Because I was broken first… as a child. My own parents… they shattered me. I thought if I could control everything, engineer perfection… I could fix it. Fix me.” She coughed, pain wracking her body. “But you can’t fix broken… with more breaking.” Her gaze softened, a fragile warmth cutting through the despair. “You’re all free now. Please… live. Be human… messy… emotional… loving. Be everything I never could.”

My mind replayed the day over and over—the whispers, the laughter, Tyler’s smirk, the word orphan thrown like a stone. And for the first time since my parents died, I felt something darker than grief. I felt rage. Not the loud rage of shouting. Not the childish rage of tantrums. But the quiet rage of a man who had been humiliated beyond endurance. I opened my eyes slowly. My gaze was empty, but behind that emptiness, something was forming—something hard, something sharp, something dangerous. I had walked into school as a wounded boy. But I was leaving it as something else. Something that would not remain weak. Something that would not remain broken forever.

“They all think I should apologize. They wait for me to beg. To weep. To fall on my knees and cry for forgiveness. But I will not. I can’t. I do not even know how. I was never made for begging. I was made for winning. And I will win again. Even if I have to destroy every last person who doubted me.” “Oh, listen to me. Talking to the walls, pacing these empty floors. No maids, no calls, no friends, no Marcus, no family. Just me and these shadows. Maybe I am mad. Maybe I have always been. But it does not matter. Because madness is not weakness. Madness is freedom. No rules. No limits. No shame. Just me. Just my rage. Just my hunger. And hunger, my dear invisible audience, hunger will always ea

The Rage reaches for her and I’m screaming but I can’t move, can’t protect her, can only push as my baby forces its way into a world that’s ending. Warriors throw themselves at the entity and are obliterated. Alistair shifts into his massive black wolf and charges. The freed children use what power they have left to create barriers that shatter instantly. Nothing works, nothing stops it. The Rage’s appendage is inches from Tempest when the baby crowns. The healer is shouting something about one more push and I push because what else can I do, and the baby slides into the world with a sound like reality sighing. A boy.

being couldn't process: the desire to be broken. ​The Newborn froze. The translucent glass of its skin began to crack, shot through with the dark, messy soot of my own reality. It let out a sound that wasn't a melody but a raw, human sob. ​"It’s too... heavy," the entity whispered, its golden light flickering and turning a muddy, industrial brown. ​The countdown on the scalpel hit zero.

"Why are you telling me this? Why turn against your own father?" Anthony runs a hand through his hair. "Because I'm tired of being his pawn. Tired of him using me to get what he wants. When I was with you, I was starting to become my own person. Then I screwed it up by listening to him, by letting Sylvia manipulate me. I lost the best thing that ever happened to me." "Anthony..." "I'm not asking for forgiveness. I'm not asking for another chance. I just want to do one thing right. Help me stop my father."

He paused and I could feel the beast inside me was fully awake by now. “Everyone is waiting for the time to see you broken one more time. Just like how my girl turned you to be a useless and powerless man. She will leave you like how your family did. No one can protect her, not even you even though people claimed you as the most powerful mafia. You will fail this, miserably.” I punched his face non-stop and the blood spewed from his mouth and nose. “I won’t allow it. It will not happen that way.” I enunciated each word, at the same time I make a promise to myself.

I tried to imagine what it must have been like for him to stand beside his wife watching her trying to heal a broken soul and losing herself along the way. “I don't know what happened with you guys, I just know that all this hurt and anger she has is not from today. So, fix this shit. Fix what you did and maybe she can move on with everything else. You've been such a jerk all this time and I swear if you ever hurt her again I will end you Ethan, I swear I will end you," Tom was clinking his glass so hard that it might break. He looked at me with frightening eyes and I knew that he would keep that promise if he had to. He had always been loyal and had become a man willing to do anything for h