City Of Anger Novels & Stories

At first, I knew it was nervousness, awkwardness, and the waves of freight surging through me, but when his words had registered in my head, everything I felt back then was gradually turning into something else – annoyance, anger, and boiling rage at its peak, was an understatement. The tension between us drifted to something else. The undeniable anger I felt for my frustrated life, the debts, and the mess I'd stupidly gotten myself into, all of this slowly forming a fit of anger in my chest, and yes, It didn’t take me a second to send a striking slap across his face as his head wiped to the side and I could almost see the imprint of my finger on his face. I'd just slapped the dangerous man

Too light to be visible, yet somehow too heavy to ignore. And then I just stood there where Gerard was standing minutes ago. I stared down at the city, and it blurred. I couldn’t tell if it was the sun or if it was my vision. ******** Even after Gerard had left, the anger didn’t fade. My pulse was still high, and the heat clung to me like a second skin. The day blurred by with me barking orders, snapping at anyone and everyone. And by evening, the heat had turned into something feral.

I rifle through the makeup on the top and pull out a mascara to at least bring some age to my face. That all-consuming feeling is turning black in my soul. I’m losing the ability to control it, and where heartbreak was, anger is now devouring instead. I spent so many years turning my rage into healthier avenues of outlet and learning not to impulsively let it jump out front when I’m hurting, but the last months in the city seem to have undone all of that, and like a knee-jerk uppercut reaction, anger is reigning supreme. Fury at him, the guy who has never deserved it, yet dealt with it so many times in the past.

Romeo cleared his throat, a low sound that snapped my gaze back up to his face. Right. Caught. “I have anger issues,” he said flatly. “This is no surprise to anyone.” The wind ruffled his hair as we continued walking down the lit up streets. “But lately, things have gotten out of hand.” He paused before finishing. “I can’t promise I won’t get angry again.” My eyes rolled so hard the world actually tilted for a second. “Oh my god,” I muttered, pressing a hand briefly to my forehead. “If there’s a good reason, then I can understand you being angry. Everyone gets angry.”

“Everything is about me. About us. That girl is a spark. And if you keep touching her, Angelo… you will burn this city to the ground.” The words hung in the air, thick and suffocating. Angelo leaned forward too, refusing to shrink, his eyes locked on Giovanni’s with unshakable resolve. “Then maybe it’s time it burned.” A murmur rippled among the lieutenants. Some exchanged glances, others shifted uneasily, but none spoke. The brazenness of Angelo’s words was a blade in the quiet, slicing through unspoken codes of respect. Giovanni’s jaw ticked, a faint pulse in the corner. “You think like a boy still,” he said at last, voice low, almost pitying. “Fire consumes. It does not choose. Burn the c

“Do you know who I am? I’m Emily! That name alone should make them fight for me!” Willy’s breath was heavy, but he stayed quiet. And somehow, that made me angrier because no one opposed me, no one defended me, no one said I was right. I let out a short, bitter laugh. “See? Even if you have nothing to say.” Willy looked down. “I just don’t want to make things worse.” I turned my face away. Suddenly, the anger transformed into something else something colder, more painful. I walked to the large window, staring at the city from above. The lights of the buildings glowed beautifully, but felt so distant. As if I were standing outside of it all.

The set of tools at my disposal, money, influence, and fury, had been blunted by circumstance. That truth made me angrier than anything Lexie could have said. It was an insult I could not answer with force or fiat. I let the anger fold into planning, impotent rage is the enemy of victory. Find another way. Gather more men. Watch every camera. Trace every plate. If the skies refused me, the ground would be my battlefield. I would wait one night if I had to. I would burn the city down with my plans before I let her go.

But I didn’t go home straight; instead, I went to a bar to have a drink and cool my head off. By the time I stumbled into the small bar, evening had already sunk deep into the city. I sat somewhere in the corner. My hands shook as I ordered a drink. And then another. And another. The world blurred around me, but my anger stayed sharp. sharp enough to sting my own lips.

No music, no words were exchanged between mum and I, which I was thankful for cause I was in no mental state for a talk. My breath was heavy,I could feel the fire in my chest. Rage. Pure, burning rage. Angelo thought he could throw me away? Bella thought she could take everything from me? They were wrong. So wrong. I stared out the window, my hands clenched into fists. I would make them pay. They had no idea who they were messing with, but I’d show it to them, one by one. Every single thing Angelo had his job in the Melendez Corp, his money, his fancy life, I gave him that.

CAL Somewhere inside me, anger rises because it knows the shape of the room and wants to fill it, wants to slam a fist through the mirror, wants to call Seattle and say every vicious thing sitting behind my teeth, wants to make this about betrayal and business and hockey because those are all survivable categories. But beneath the anger is something worse. A pull. A quiet, terrible pull toward the exact things I should be fighting: Denver. Ethan. His locker room. His ice. His standards. His voice. His authority.