Jack The Ripper Berserker Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Four berserkers. Their wolf forms are hideous, just as you wanted.” Zykos laughed, clapping once with genuine delight. “They’re perfect. You did well this time, Fitz.” His eyes darkened as he looked at the berserkers. The sight inside the cage made Liliana’s chest tighten. Four wolves snarling, broken beyond recognition. Bones pushed out from their joints, their bodies carved up by deep, unhealed wounds. Flesh was rotting, barely clinging to them, like it could fall away at any moment. They were hardly alive, trapped between constant pain and madness.

It was Friday, and I couldn't wait for a day off, even though I wasn't sure how I would be spending it. My mind always seemed to travel back to Ivan, the hunters, and inevitably, Balor. I buried myself in my work, trying to push the worry, guilt, and anger away. I was the least exciting person to be around, but it seemed like Piper was the only one who cared enough to try and bring me out of the slump I had found myself stuck in. "Three victims. All male, ages ranging from eighteen to twenty-five. Multiple gunshot wounds. Seems like another murder linked to this ongoing gang war between the Black Sea and Poison Snakes." I nodded my head, pursing my lips.

I smirk, "more like my mates. Plural Jack. They're quite territorial you know?" He gasps, "two? Mates? That's just a legend!". I shake my head, "no legend." I move my neck from side to side and show him the marks. Jack's face pales and he swallows with a nod, "lets just get this done so I can go back to my pack." After shifting into our wolves, we start circling. Jack is a big black wolf with a white flash across his tail, and piercing blue eyes; not beautiful, but freaky. It doesn't go with his wolf or his nature.

A werewolf armed with a firearm stepped forward, his stance defensive. I climbed out of the vehicle, my voice steady and commanding. “I am Alpha Jack. A few days ago, I sent word to your Alpha that the Blue Lagoon Pack would be sending reinforcements to support your alliance.” The werewolf hesitated before fully stepping into the moonlight, revealing his battered form. One of his pant legs hung empty, and he leaned heavily on a cane while gripping his weapon with the other hand. His face was partially wrapped in gauze, while the exposed side was streaked with dried blood.

Wait, why does he look like a real berserker? Jeje flies through the sky by boosted by the fire igniting on his back like a real Gundam. He flies tearing the wing with his piercing hand and flies back tearing it again. He keeps doing that that Ahol wings are full of holes. Buriko beats the Tasmanian Devil with his ax in rampaging mode. Why does he really resemble Heracles?!

Jack said; he frowned briefly, and then a smile broke out on his face, "Of course, I am in!" "Good," I said, grinning. "On three," he grunted as he was punched in the gut. "Now, you've made the big bad alpha angry." Jack's eyes flashed golden, and he snarled, his canine protruding, his claws out, and he swiped at the attacker's face, yanking off a great deal of flesh from his cheek. Then he moved into his neck, ripped out of his throat without remorse. "For the vultures," he said, discarding his lifeless body. He turned to the others, "Now, who wants to be minced meat for the scavengers?" his voice was a low growl, but it had enough threat and warning to scare the attackers.

Instead, his nose presses into the crook of my neck, his deep inhale sending a violent shiver down my spine. Then he growls. Low. Deep. Possessive. “I hate that you have his scent all over you.” My breath catches in my throat. Jack’s grip tightens, his fingers digging into my waist like he wants to mold me into him, erase whatever traces of Fury still linger on my skin. His entire body is tense, his wolf lurking just beneath the surface. And then, his silver eyes flicker up, locking onto Fury. “Even though he’s my best warrior,” Jack says, his voice deceptively calm, “I still want to snap his neck.”

“And no, it wasn’t Max. He meant to intervene but turns out he didn’t need to. Should I tell you all why? Or do you already know?” “Stop!” My mother strictly said. This is how she sounded when she berated us. Kent’s smile grew further up his cheeks. He looked at me, then came closer to examine me. His dark eyes followed my body, up and down. “Plain. Simple. Nothing extraordinary about her. Nothing like Marianna.” He stopped in front of me, his eyes reading mine. He searched for a few seconds, not sure what he was looking for, but I was being taken by their color. They weren’t fully black. It was almost like they had a hue of red in them. This was the first time I had seen a werewolves—a male

I spit on him Erik looks between me and Jack, a smile playing on the corner of his lips as his eyes met mine “That’s more like it” he murmurs through our mind l**k. I look back at Jack who is still laying on the floor, a pool of blood spreading out around him, why wasn’t he healing. Erik had noticed before I did and yanked him to his feet, sniffing Jack’s neck “Smell’s like wolf, definitely not wolf”. Jack continued to whimper, I think anyone would if they were that close to a pissed off Alpha, “Who are you?” Erik roared into Jack’s face and the colour that was already draining from his skin turned instantly white like he had seen a ghost

Unknown to many Jeremy's desire for blood and battle was an addiction he sometimes fought back, the taste of blood, the cut of flesh, the screams of agony, and the risk of death were as addictive as sex to the Lycan. Jeremy was born into the berserk pack of Lycans known as the most unstable and violent kind of Lycans in existence, however, unlike most of his kind, Jeremy was called a genius for his rare ability to suppress his battle desires. With a smirk and wink to Matilda, he spoke "I accept, you sick twisted fuck," "Fuck he's going berserk," Liam spoke nervously chewing on his fingers "What do you mean berserk?, wait...does Jeremy belong to the berserker class?" She asked frantically, sh