I Woke Up And Chose Violence Novels & Stories

I pointed my finger at the blankets and screamed like they were going to feel threatened. “CASEY ” Zazu's voice rang throughout the apartment. To hell with. I yanked the door and soughted “ I am awake. I am awake ”. Shut my door with a loud bang. Did you hear that ? That is called peace that I hardly get. Usually I am not a violent person but what do you expect from a girl who has not had her morning coffee yet and on top of that I am still struggling with the hangover.

Suddenly he raised a high knee and I blocked with my elbow, then swung at him back. The man spun in a 360 and landed a kick to my abdomen, sending me back and hitting a tree too. Pain ricocheted from that point of contact to the rest of my body, and I groaned out in agony. By the time I opened my eyes, I was on the ground, and spots were dancing in my line of vision. I spat blood, then spoke up. "I am not like my father. I do not support violence against Cursed Ones. Hell, my mate is a Cursed One!"

The agony of that loss, mixed with the burning desire for justice, had shaped me into a person capable of enduring even this nightmarish revelation. I felt my body respond as if it had a mind of its own. The power within me surged, an almost palpable force that beckoned to be unleashed. My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the cultists as if daring them to force my hand. “I—I choose…” I began, my voice trembling with the effort of control.

The word is steady this time. I close my eyes. He waits. “I felt it too,” I whisper. His head snaps back toward me. “What?” “When you struck him. When he broke. I felt the surge.” “And?” “It thrilled me.” The admission tastes bitter. His expression shifts from defense to shock. “You?” “Yes.” “You hate violence.” “I do.” “Then why—” “Because it felt like justice,” I cut in. “Because it felt like we were no longer prey. Because for once, we were not begging.”

“I didn’t think that we’d have to go to large lengths to get a morsel of information out of them. Vic is still there but I…I needed to catch my breath.” I wouldn’t even bother asking him what he meant by that. I knew, in a way. “I think it’s all going to work out just fine.” “I never wanted this,” he said. “The violence, I mean. I wanted peace. I wanted to run my father’s pack and make the most of it without having to ever get involved with bad people. But the choices I made led me here, and without violence, I’d never survive in this environment. I was never like Cyrus, who fought for fun.”

I lean down until our faces are close. - And even? In that case, I'll let you choose – I whisper, so only he can hear – I'll disfigure your filthy little hands with my gun or with my fists. Choose one - please. Your eyes are wide and your pupils are dilated, partly from the drug, partly from fear – I pray you choose the latter option. ANGELIC... I wake up feeling my body reacting in the worst possible way. My head is throbbing like never before. I try to open my eyes and am grateful for the darkness around me. I couldn't even stand a spark of sunshine.

"Look what the cat dragged in. Right on time for the fireworks, Giovanni." I didn’t speak. Speech was a weakness, a distraction. Every muscle in my body felt coiled, loaded, ready to unleash the storm. I simply advanced, my boots crunching softly on the concrete grit. Every step was a declaration of war. I radiated suppressed violence because violence was the only language Vlad understood, and the only response possible when someone touches what is mine. Then the screaming started. "Giovanni! No! Snipers! Bombs! It's a trap!"

They hadn’t expected the wrath of a man scorned to find them here, in this hidden heart of the city. I didn’t hesitate. Violence was immediate, precise, unflinching. One man lunged at me with a crowbar—I grabbed his wrist, twisted, and sent him crashing into a stack of crates. Another came at me from behind; I pivoted, elbow driving into his ribs, then a swift kick that sent him sprawling across the concrete. The sound of their impact echoed through the building, a symphony of pain and fear orchestrated by my hands.

Alpha Lachlan will going to end her in the most excruciating and brutal way possible. Vamoire accumulated the courage she rummaged from the deepest of her self. She needs it. “You will not be able to kill me.” She let her fangs out, determined to fight for the chance to survive. If none is going to help her, she'll do the job.

I wanted to bash their heads in with the heavy sculpture on the fireplace mantel and strip the flesh from their bones piece by piece until they begged for death. It was the first time I’d had such violent thoughts. Mama was sweet and loving, and Papa was tough but fair. Honorable. They had raised Nina and me to be the same. But after seeing what those men did, I wanted to torture them slowly. Endlessly. Except I couldn’t. If I went out there, they would kill me too, and there would be no vengeance. No justice. Drip. Drip. Dripdripdrip. I bled faster. I couldn’t look away as the second man raised his gun again and fired.