Cold Revenge Novels & Stories

Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but her hips still lifted to meet my thrusts, greedy even while she clawed at my back. I kept going, relentless, sweat dripping down my chest onto her skin. Every time she begged me to ease up, I fucked her harder, chasing that dark satisfaction burning in my gut. This wasn’t lovemaking. This was revenge in the only way that felt real right now—burying myself inside the daughter of the woman who stole my mother’s life. The door opened quietly behind us. I didn’t stop. I didn’t care who it was. It could have been my dad, her mother, or anyone who shouldn’t have seen us. I was too far gone to think about repercussions.

"Fix it. Send someone here now." "Yes, sir. Right away." I hung up. The cold worked its way under my jacket, crawling along my spine. My hands shook once before I made them stop. Traffic noise scraped at my ears, each sound dragging something raw with it. I put both palms on the hood. The metal bit through the fabric of my gloves. Cold. Unforgiving. I hit it with my fist. Not hard enough to damage anything. Just to hear something solid. The sound bounced off the buildings and came back empty.

"You're a real scam artist! You have chicken and ducks at home, yet you're charging us ten dollars for a meal? Do you have no conscience for exploiting workers like us?" With that, she threw rotten eggs and spoiled vegetables all over me in a fit of rage.

"His pack will be viewed as hostile outsiders until we ascertain whether Grayson Cole purposefully brought southern threats into this valley." The clearing blew up. The Sentinels appeared shocked as well. Since this was not a strategy. It was a panic. Near the convoy, Grayson's wolves shifted violently. Eyes of silver. low snarls. Near the surface, violence is simmering. Additionally, Grayson He appeared enraged. Not a loud rage. Not careless rage. Even worse, Icy rage. The kind that made whole rooms freeze. He whispered, "You think now is the time for political games?"