Brutal Vows Novels & Stories

This bond was an ancient and unbreakable lycan vow that carried death for betrayal. "Break your promise and die" I threatened, smirk widening, my voice a velvet blade. His blood was warm against mine, the wounds already healing, the pact sealed. Kade’s face was a picture of splintered fury, fire raged within his eyes, but he kept himself immobile, his strength bound by the knowledge of what I could do. He knew I would kill him without batting an eyelid, my claws through his heart before he could blink. The hall fell silent, the crackling of the fire inaudible, the carved wolf heads leaning closer, witnesses to his defeat. I stepped back, relaxed but predatory in demeanor, surveying him, asse

I am a fucking Marino, and my family's legacy was built on pride, and an unyielding refusal to surrender. We would rather die on our feet than beg on our knees. That's the code we lived by, the creed that coursed through our veins. "Still not going to tell me where it is?" A rich, velvety voice, unmistakably Volkov Bratva's, dripped with sadistic anticipation, drawing a chuckle from me. I licked my lips, wincing as my tongue brushed against a tender bruise. A faint metallic taste hinted at a split lip.

Her palms were calloused, warm, and entirely steady, banishing the phantom cold of the ancient limestone dais. "I take you," I said, Bridie's hands warm in mine, "with nothing held back for anything ancient or ordinary to find purchase in. Whatever comes for us next, I choose you first." The vow wasn't drawn from an ancient scripture or a state treaty negotiated by lawyers. It was the absolute, unyielding truth of every choice we had made when slaughter would have been simpler. I squeezed her fingers, letting the weight of my grip convey every word I didn't have the voice to speak before fifty spectators—that no shadow, no ancestral curse, and no spilled blood of the past would ever stand be

He bellowed, "How could you do this to Riri? You've got some woman on the side and abandoned her!" Lionel pressed the jagged edge of the broken beer bottle against my neck.

At this point, I was certain—There was something seriously wrong with the both of them. One loved stealing what belonged to others, while the other thrived on self-sacrifice and wallowing in their own misery. I took a deep breath to suppress my anger before saying, "Get out of here right now, or I swear I'll kill you!” "Henry, you and Sadie are a match made in heaven. The two of you should be locked together forever and stop ruining other people's lives, you absolute trash!"

A throbbing pain radiated through my nerves as various distorted faces magnified before me: "Just as I thought, it's you, the shameless homewrecker Samantha Jewel!" "How dare you, this brazen slut, show your face again!" "Dressed like a tramp, for sure, you're out trying to snatch another man!" "You cuckolded our perfect Mr. Long! I swear I'll beat you to death!" "Scram already, prostitute! Your very existence pollutes the air; why don't you drop dead!"

I looked up. The priest stared at me for one sad second, before he cleared his throat and began the vows. “Do you accept Dimitri Volkov, as your lawful husband..” My nails dug into my palms, as I clenched my fist. No please, I wouldn't. I will never! “To have and to hold..” My throat constricted. “from this day forward, for better or for worse,” I reached out one hand to steady my pounding heart. “for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish until death do you part?”

There were only a few passersby, as it was already past midnight. Suddenly, a screeching noise of a car was heard, disturbing the peaceful atmosphere of the night. Not long after, a black sedan came into view, approaching at an extremely fast speed. The passersby turned towards the source of that awful noise. And then, as if in slow motion, the car arrived and slammed violently into the bollards, losing all control. The impact echoed like an explosion and the vehicle flipped once, twice, before crashing onto its roof with a brutal, final thud.

“Then stop talking and prove it.” Their clothes scattered like debris in a storm. He devoured her—mouth, teeth, tongue—a frenzy of lust and punishment. He left marks, bruises, evidence of possession across her skin like a signature. She returned each bruise with nails, with moans that dared him to go harder, faster. It was war. It was sex. It was something unholy and addictive. By the time they collapsed—sweat-slicked and breathless—her body ached, but it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough.

She walked closer to the commotion. She found herself in a large, cavernous room, its walls lined with worn leather couches and scarred tables. The scene before her was brutal and shocking, a stark contrast to the elegant balls and refined gatherings she had grown accustomed to. Five men who were following her lay sprawled on the floor, their bodies riddled with bullets, their blood staining the already grimy carpet. A sixth man, his face contorted in a mask of rage, stood over them, a smoking pistol clutched in his hand. Charlotte’s breath hitched in her throat. The violence was raw, visceral, a brutal display of power that left her feeling both nauseated and strangely fascinated.