City Of Anger Novels & Stories

Selena questions, looking at Nisemono and the lost boy who seemed too upset to talk. "He took Amorivia," he said, gritting his teeth. "It seems like he knows our plan. He said she possessed the power to unlock his weakness. The Angel does not want to be defeated. We have to travel to the City of Reflection. Let's find it on the map that the King has given us." "City of Reflection?" "That sounds like a great place to die." "For the Angel of Death," says Kitto, shaking his head, "Not for us. We have to go home no matter what."

I was simply slowly losing my mind in absolute anger. Rage is a cheap drug when you let it in your system. I prefer mine measured, poured into a glass, and swallowed in one tilt of the wrist. The city slid by in windows and wet pavement. I drove past a billboard with his face on it; I tightened my knuckles at the wheel in a bid to calm myself. I didn’t go home. I went to the office with no sign out front, the one with the elevator that arrives before you press the button if it knows your weight. Ray went ahead of me and had the lights on already; he’d left the car early because he felt my anger.

Fire in the Streets Jace's POV It's been three painful days now, and Lucian hasn't come to get me. The delay is agonizing, but the things I see every day from the lonely cathedral window are worse. The city of Barcelona has become a center of violence,gang war, blood, and the senseless deaths of innocent people,the city is in total chaos. The streets are a constant state of chaos, people running helter-skelter, fleeing the war, brutal clashes that tear the city apart every single day.

"There's a difference." "Damien." "What." "Stop being reasonable. I'm trying to be angry." "At me." "At the situation." "Then be angry at the situation." He didn't move. "I'm not going anywhere while you do." I stood up and walked to the window. The city was doing what it always did, indifferent and illuminated, twelve floors below. I thought about my mother at forty-three sitting across from a corporate lawyer with a document she couldn't afford not to sign. I thought about her telling me about a great-aunt. I thought about how she'd never once seemed bitter. How she'd just gotten quieter about certain things.

Angelina POV I was beyond angry with him. How could he just pack me onto a plane and fly me to an entirely different country without my consent? How dare he? I knew going back home to my mother was out of the question, but that didn't mean he had the right to drag me wherever he pleased. Despite my boiling anger, the city of Rome was exceptionally beautiful. I kept my gaze firmly glued to the window, absorbing the stunning architecture of the new city. Danzel sat beside me, scrolling silently through his tablet.

No matter how hard I tried to push them away, they always found a way back—taunting, haunting, relentless. My fists clenched at my sides, nails biting into my palms, the familiar burn of rage flaring up once more. It started as a spark—a flicker of anger—but every time I heard those voices, it grew. Like a fire that begins in a small house, unnoticed at first, but eventually swallows an entire city in its flames.

The elevator couldn't come fast enough. In the car, I stared out the window with my arms crossed. My whole body was rigid with anger. The city passed by in a blur, but all I could think about was Henderson's smug face. "I won't let him go scott-free," I muttered, my voice low and dangerous. "If he thinks he can destroy my hard work or ruin my position, he's got another thing coming." My hands were shaking again, but this time it wasn't from hurt. It was from pure rage. My blood felt like it was boiling in my veins.

Such as a lock falling into position. I did not even switch on the TV that night.I did not feed through my phone. I was sitting by the window and the city lights were streaming in, the paper was piled up on the table behind me very neatly. The fear did not exist in isolation anymore.Something of that other had taken root. Anger. It tickled my flesh, more like coffee, or more like wine. And anger, better, I saw, than fear. Anger moved. Anger fought back. I clapped my palm to my stomach, the tiniest flutter was giving me the reminder of the life that was growing within me. He wasn’t just coming for Avis. Quentin would take this child as well had I permitted it. No. Not this time. This time, I’

“It took me a while to figure it out but it was worth every dollar I spent and I believe I have paid my dues and earned the right to keep this territory and the supply chain as well.” Angelo belonged to a group that experienced an internal war in Chicago, he and a few of his buddies had come down here a few months ago and they brought chaos into Los Angeles. I heard of them while I was working for my father but they were regarded as little fishes in the big pond but they have grown into something bigger.

The engine roared to life, and I peeled out of the drive, tires screaming against the pavement. The city swallowed me. I drove aimlessly at first, windows down, the city air slapping across my face like a cold hand trying to wake me up. I didn’t turn on music. I didn’t need it. The roar in my head was loud enough. I’d never been this triggered. Not even when she stole from me. Not even when I’d first realized she was more than just a debt to collect. Back then the anger had been clean and transactional. This was different. This was personal. This was mine being touched by someone who had no right