Graphic Gore Novels & Stories

Warning: this chapter contains a lot of gruesome war scenes, it might be triggering for some people so please read it at your own risk. It was a bloodbath, bodies lying everywhere, some decapitated, or without hearts. It was the most gruesome sight I’ve ever seen, the movies don’t do justice to the horrors a person has to go through when fighting in a war.

CHAPTER 2 When silence becomes a weapon POV: Elara I needed an escape; everything was happening so fast. I walked quickly, half-way running through the hallways. Closing the door behind me, I pressed my forehead against the cool wood and tried to slow my breath. But it only came faster and shallower. I felt like I was drowning. My lungs burned. The doctor called it ‘Human Rejection.’ This may sound poetic, but it’s really a death sentence. I could feel my body was tearing itself apart, forcing out organs that couldn’t handle the lunar energy here. I was in the werewolf realm.

Kael and Mara screamed as their skin split open, slow and brutal. They hit the floor, begging. "Yaya, we're sorry! We didn't mean it! Please—let us go!" I didn't blink. "The players you killed—did they beg too? Did you let them go?" Before I could move, the silver cross shot forward on its own. It didn't even touch them. Their fear meters spiked to 100. And then—screams, bodies bursting apart, souls shredded to nothing. No blood. No trace. Just silence.

Boisterous howls ate like a horse in his ears, his hands clasped tightly on the sheets, his eyes shut tightly and strenuously. The hoots, the howls, the squeals, reverberated in his head, echoing garish than they ever did before. Fumes, houses on fire, people on fire, cadavers, tears of children, blood, blood, and lots of blood, they all glinted before his eyes. Raw fangs, deep gory eyes, bloody claws, silver power, deterred energy, more flashes in his vision.

No interruptions, no noise, nothing just quiet. Although the woods is where Nathan was killed. I don't like to think about it, I also don't want to think of the sound of the gunshot that was fired at him. The fact that that person didn't have any remorse when they did that. It almost reminds me of my nightmares, nightmares of me killing a lot of people. Does that have anything to do with being a grey werewolf by any chance? I haven't told Ty about that nightmare. The only person that knows is Rene. It's too gruesome to talk about. I will tell him, eventually. After two hours of silence. Ty and I go to the flower shop to get flowers for Nathan's grave. I pick up roses and Ty picks up peonies.

With trembling fingers, I turn the knob and push the door open, revealing what lies inside. It takes a few seconds for my mind to comprehend what I’m seeing. My boss’s body is slumped in the leather chair, but what captures my gaze is his throat. Slashed. In a grotesque, cruel way. The wound is deep, brutal, and blood pours out in profusion, staining his clothes and spreading across the floor in a chaotic, macabre pattern. The red color is so vivid, so real, that it seems like a stain on reality itself, something that shouldn’t exist, but there it is, right before my eyes.

Cain stood in the doorway. His black combat uniform was drenched in blood. The chest area was half-dried, but the sleeves were still dripping, rivulets running down the seams of his tactical gloves and dripping onto the floor. His collar was ripped open to the sternum, exposing a blade wound that slashed diagonally from his left shoulder to his right ribs. Flesh peeled back, the edges a vivid, glistening red like a freshly cracked pomegranate. In the deepest section, you could see the muscle fascia underneath. His face was also covered in blood, unwashed, sprayed from his left cheekbone all the way down to his jaw. The blood had dried into a dark crimson crust, making his ice-blue eyes look

Grey growled, gripping my hips harder before returning between my legs, drawing his tongue through every sensitive spot. My legs wobbled. My body shivered. My skin became feverish. My feelings were a mess. Grey, the powerful Mafia boss, the killer, the one who owned me, was on his knees before me. The sole sight filled me with an odd blend of fear, embarrassment, and wicked excitement.

Bite after bite after bite. They fed harder than ever before. Deeper. Faster. Their sucks turned desperate and greedy, pulling blood from me in heavy, continuous streams. My blood painted the black marble in thick, shining rivers that ran down my neck, over my breasts, along my thighs, and pooled beneath my writhing body. The mirrors showed me the obscene scene from every angle: my body covered in puncture wounds, skin streaked crimson, mouth open in constant moans and screams, holes filled with pale, thrusting cocks.

POV DARLENE The "Liminal North" was no longer a dreamscape; it was a theater of the dying. As the fourteen beams of black light pierced the violet-grey dawn, the air began to thicken, not with the ozone of the Foundry, but with the metallic, coppery scent of a slaughterhouse that had been left in the sun. The Grey Pack warriors, only just freed from their silver stasis, were not howling in victory. They were clutching their throats, their iridescent fur turning a dull, sickly ochre as the Original Hunger began to pulse from across the Great Divide.