Novel & Cerita I Am Stronger Than Anger

The investigators sometimes look at me with a mix of respect and pity; they know that without loved ones, there is often no momentum, no pressure to go further. But I also know that true strength comes from a simple, resilient anger. Lyra is somewhere, maybe hurt, maybe scared. She is counting on us, on Lucas, on Alexandre, on all those who care for her. I rely on my tenacity. I am not a walking miracle; I am just an angry woman, but anger can move mountains when guided by loyalty.

Yet, amidst the tempest of fury, a flicker of clarity emerged—a beacon of understanding that illuminated the path forward. I clenched my fists, the tension in my muscles a tangible manifestation of the conflict raging within me. This anger, this burning tempest, could either be my downfall or my salvation. It was a delicate balance, a tightrope I had to tread with utmost caution. I couldn't allow myself to be consumed by this inferno. No, I needed to harness its power, to wield it as a tool in my relentless pursuit of freedom.

"I'm not weak. "You think you are a fighter," said, his grip on my arm tightening. "But you're not strong enough to beat me. You never will be." I felt the anger rising up inside me, fighting against the fear. I knew I had to stand up to him, or he would never stop. "You're wrong," I said again, my voice shaking with rage. "I'm stronger than you could ever imagine. You're the weak one, not me." Andre smiled, a cold, mocking smile. "Is that so?" he asked. "We'll see about that."

“What is this? Feeling like a pathetic superhero who failed to save a victim?” “I could have done something!” I roared with anger, my vision turning red. I swept everything off the table in one violent motion, scattering the contents across the room. My chest heaved, my fists clenching, and that did nothing to lessen my anger. Not even a bit. I wasn't angry at the annoying look on Richard’s face. I wasn't angry that he was speaking to me like I was throwing a tantrum. No, I was angry that he was right. Yes, I felt pathetic because I couldn't save her, even though I'd promised I would.

“I didn’t expect this from someone who built his pack with outcasts and misfits.” “And you’re exactly what I thought you would be,” I shot back. “Strong but predictable. You’ve never had to be creative because you’ve always had resources to overwhelm problems.” My words hit him hard. I could see the anger flash in Marcus's eyes, and he charged at me with less strategy than before, letting his rage take control. That was exactly what I wanted. I had faced smarter opponents than him for years. While anger could give you strength, it could also cloud your judgment.

I was suddenly stunned by my strength, but then I remembered the words that he uttered. “Don't f*cking follow me!” I threatened him. James has no choice but to do what I have said. He didn't force himself to follow me which is good because I wanted to be alone. I just can't believe that of all people, he would be the one who would call me weak. “I'm not weak, James. I am not f*cking weak!” I gritted my teeth when those words escaped from my lips. My eyes started to darkened and because of that, I could already feel the anger that was about to cover my heart. However, I took control over it. I don't want this to happen again.

I wish i had her strength of mind. i take a deep breath, pushing all my anger forward and causing the thunder to become stronger, the wind barreling through the clearing at immense speed. i shoved all i could into several large branches and boulders, throwing them forward once they rushed me all at once, i hit one, but the others easily dodged my attack.

I tripped after she gave me a firm shove back. "Strength without control is useless," she firmly asserted. "You are fighting with anger rather than expertise. And you'll be slaughtered for it." Fury. Yes. That was precisely what was burning in my veins and pulsing beneath my skin. A power that was beyond my comprehension and control. My fists clenched as my heart thumped. “She is right. You're becoming uncontrollable, allowing your anger override your every move.” At last, Damon, who had been observing from the sidelines, moved forward. "That’s enough for tonight."

I could almost hear them “You’ll never be strong enough.” “You’re just a weak girl.” “No wolf. No power.” “No more,” I gasped, hitting again. My voice broke but my anger didn’t. “I’m not weak, not anymore.” Ella stirred in the back of my mind, her voice a low growl. Then prove it, prove them all wrong. We’ve been holding back for too long. Sweat slid down my temple, my chest was rising and falling in sharp bursts. I pulled back and drove my fist forward with all the rage I had bottled for years.

Enough for me to feel the edge of something sharp and dangerous pressing against my control. That is enough reason for me to turn this thing personal. I inhale slowly. I am not as reckless as my brothers think I am. They see the temper. The sharp tongue. The smirk that pushes people’s buttons. They do not see the control. I know how to hold my anger. How to shape it. How to let it simmer instead of explode. Rage wasted in one outburst is useless. Rage directed with precision is something else entirely. So even though my dominant feeling is fury, I will not waste it by unleashing it all at once. I rely on two things... my strength, and my rage... they make me invincible... and dangerous. And