Damage Novels & Stories

I said to him and smiled as my pack laughed at him. The green flames in his hands grew brighter and I smiled. I felt in total control of myself and I said the words in my head as I called for my own green fire. He looked at me and tried to send a wave of pain towards me. I looked at him. “Brotna fingr.” His forefinger was pulled upwards and backwards towards his wrist and broke as he screamed. “Trevor!” Lauren came from the side, a stabbing pain washed over me. Adara touched her as she began to chant. She fell to the floor and I looked back at Trevor.

I whimpered, sending those words and emotions through our bond and also to Dolf so he could communicate them to my mate. I didn’t know what I’d been expecting, but when Davien rolled onto his side, narrowly missing Damien’s hit by a second, I sighed in relief, clutching my chest as tears welled in my eyes. That fleeting moment of relief quickly dissolved when I realized Davien couldn’t move—his body battered with broken bones from the hard crash.

James roared back, his face flushed red with fury, sweat glistening at his temples. Damien staggered up to his full height again, his chest heaving. He wiped blood from the corner of his lip with the back of his hand, his eyes burning brighter than fire itself. He wasn’t just angry—he was wounded, humiliated, betrayed. “You know what?” Damien’s voice was like broken glass. “I’m done. I’m withdrawing my hand from this bar. Let’s see it go bankrupt without me.” James wiped his own mouth, his eyes narrowed with contempt.

My arms trembled, and my nose bled from the effort. Damian pulled me behind him, deflecting another attack. “You’re burning through your core!” “I’m fine,” I lied. He turned, blood trailing down his cheek, face wild with fury. “Don’t you dare collapse on me now.” I shook my head and surged forward, hurling another bolt of lightning at a group of shadow hounds bounding toward us. They burst into fire and ash, their bones splintering from the force of the strike. More kept coming.

Nigel gasped when he sensed the power contained within Damian's attack, and he wanted to step in and help Mister Umair, but unfortunately, he was not powerful enough to do so. Before he could even react, Damian's attack struck Mister Umair squarely in the middle of his chest and propelled him backward from the impact. Mister Umair spat out a mouthful of bright red blood as he crumpled onto the ground in a heap. A wave of excruciating pain shot through his chest, and it was clear he had suffered some injuries.

I shrug. “Okay, I like her.” she points to me and looks at Rhea. “I’m Veronica by the way. Veronica Ryan. Grade B.” “Grade?” I raise a brow, confused. “A Grade basically tells how dangerous a person is. And before you ask, the difference between A’s and B’s is that A’s have committed murder.” “But mine is asterisked?” “It’s never been given before but I’m guessing it means numerous counts of murder.” Yeah. That makes sense.

Not because it was easy — because we were both running on the last of what we had and the last of what two people have when they’ve been in a chamber for this long and taken this much damage is fast and desperate and doesn’t last. Isabella came in on his blind side. Not a killing blow by itself. Not my blow by itself. Together — the geometry of it, the specific alignment of two people who had learned each other’s movement well enough to be in the right place without discussing the right place. Together. Damon went down. He didn’t get up. I stood in the chamber. My left side was — I catalogued it carefully. Ribs, at minimum two. The arm functional but the shoul

If Damian checked me now—if he saw the metal I’d deformed with two fingers while supposedly paralyzed—the Vane debt wouldn't save us. Damian walked toward the wall-com. It was a shattered ruin, wires hanging like viscera from the casing. He didn't ask questions. He didn't shout. He touched the jagged edge of the plastic, his thumb tracing the deep, impossible dent my grip had left. “Julian says it was the drills,” Damian said, his back to the room. “Marcus says it was a surge from the asset.” He turned around, the tablet’s glow reflecting in his eyes like cold moonlight.

When we hurried to the pack infirmary, I saw Damine slumped on a stone bench outside the treatment room. His black tactical vest was stained with large patches of darkened blood and grayish marks from silver toxin burns. His sweat-soaked black hair clung to his forehead. The light in his eyes was gone, filled with panic and helplessness. He was slumped forward, his back curved. I had never seen him look so broken. Sofia's friends immediately rushed forward to ask what happened.

he uses the momentum of the attack to tumble and lands standing but suddenly his knees shaken and fall, there is a swollen part on his foot! the damage that was done by the Tank2 was severe! Tank1 uses its chance to charge towards him! “f*ck... I can’t move immediately!”- Raymart. he cursed the Tank, as he tries to stand, but the damage that was taken by him was too great and his feet, is hurt like hell. Raymart doesn’t want to end like this as he tightens his grip and bleeds the swollen part of his foot! as he slashes it a blood gush from its wound but the swollen has been minimized and he can move again