Novel & Cerita Brutal Kunnin

LANA He stormed out of the bathroom with aggression, his frustration evident in every step. He was frantic, searching everywhere with a wild, desperate energy—like a wounded lion cornered and enraged. “Lana, get out now! If I lay my hands on you, I swear I’ll tear you apart and make you suffer slowly—until not a single part of your body remains intact,” Bernardo roared, his voice trembling with fury. The intensity of his words only heightened my anxiety. Suddenly, the door was kicked open with force, and gunshots rang out, shattering the tense silence.

A big part of me feels like he doesn’t want to be here. “One time, he managed to crush the heads of 8 rogues while he was pushing through the crowd. I’ve seen it myself, and it was just pure rage,” Zeke excitedly explained with a large grin on his face as if he was talking about something entertaining. I blinked at him and looked at Amir, but he just shook his head at me. “They attack with fire, Brute hates fire.” Brute said, his voice was deep and monotone. I was surprised that he even spoke.

Tessa My wolf stirs within me; she groans at first, then we howl as I look at the bruises on my hands. “And yet, you are still not healing,” he smirks, his eyes also on the bruises on my hands. The glowing stops, and I try to pull out my claws, believing my wolf should have healed and that would help heal my bruises faster. The claws struggle to come out, but they don't. Sanny isn’t strong enough yet, even the hope of a second chance mate can’t help her.

If he didn't mark his mate after turning eighteen, the full moon would drive him feral. Until Vivienne gained Alpha Alaric's approval, Adrian refused to mark her by force. So to survive this unbearable night, he'd chosen to use me instead. I truly loved him. In my past life, I'd followed my heart and given in. When Adrian recovered, Vivienne saw the mark on my neck and fell apart. She screamed that she'd leave the pack and go rogue. Even after they talked her down, she married the Alpha of the neighboring pack out of sheer spite. The news of her death came not long after. She'd lasted no longer than that pack's previous Luna — less than three years.

Monica shot him again on his lap and he couldn't keep it in any longer he yelled "I'll tell you, I'll tell you, please stop I'll tell you." The assassin said in pain Monica with the intervention of Vincent, lowered the weapon "Who are you?" Vincent asked "I.. I am Martins" He replied "What business do you have with the person you shot?" Vincent asked "I.. I have no business with him, I was sent to kill him. I am just a victim. I was threatened to do it or else they'll kill my mom." Martins replied "Who, who sent you to lay a finger on my brother?" Monica asked, but the assassin remained silent

“Sorry Sweetcheeks, I didn’t know I made you miserable. My bad.” Her stare turned frosty, brown eyes glaring icy daggers at him. For once, Ethan was thankful looks couldn’t kill otherwise he would be in serious danger of being murdered. “Don’t play games with me Ethan. I’ve had enough of your arrogance today.” Erin snapped, crossing her arms over her chest. The action caused her breasts to mash together and swell beneath the lilac blouse she wore – the suit jacket apparently discarded in the kitchen.

Let her get times two of the pain she caused me. "What do you want from me?" She mimicked in a stupid, mocking voice, "Our friend was whipped like an animal and then banished from her own pack because of you; an outsider and you dare ask what we want from you? We want to make your life a living hell is what we want from you, stupid. Did you think we had forgotten about what you did? We just wanted to give you a few days of grace is all."

With wide eyes, he hoarsely demanded “What the fuck?” “What part?” Brute asked calmly. “Who?” “Stinger. You won’t mention it. You won’t mention him.” “Who killed him?” “Knuckles.” “I thought that the club went straight.” Brute let go of him and motioned for him to sit in one of the chairs in front of his desk. He sat down behind the desk and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the bottom drawer. “For the most part. We don’t do anything with drugs, guns or people.”

That magnetic field was present, an overwhelming force that stunned me for one, killing second. Then everything… the grief, the humiliation, the rage… detonated. "DIE!" I roared, the scream torn from my chest. I lunged, all my remaining fury fixed on the pathetic tip of the butter knife, sharp and pointed at the frosty heart I knew to be as stony as stone.

As Vor, I bear the weighty responsibility of maintaining order and ensuring strict adherence to the Bratva’s unwavering code of conduct. The Russian Bratva has gained infamy for its ruthless tactics and wide-ranging criminal operations, encompassing illicit activities such as drug trafficking, arms smuggling, money laundering, and extortion. Employing a combination of violence and intimidation, we stop at nothing to accomplish our objectives, often leaving a trail of high-profile assassinations and bombings in our wake. It comes as no surprise that governments across the globe regard us with apprehension and trepidation.