Novel & Cerita Kickstarter Blood Rage

he said. “And the two dead strippers?” Jake asked him. “Revenge killings for our dead guys,” he said. “Thanks,” Jake said, and pulled the trigger again. The bullet entered the man’s skull and knocked him backwards against the wall with a spray of blood as he slid down to the floor. Jake dragged his hand through his hair. Fuck. They were after Jamie. Jake pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed Bandit’s number. “Wrath! Are you joining us for a party?”

I couldn't take anymore, those vampires were tearing off his skin and kicking on his face. I kicked the door and stepped out, my blood pounded crazily in my veins as I growled angrily. Fangs pierced out of my jaws, nails grew out into claws. " I may not be a good fighter, but I have had basic training with Blood Moon Pack's warriors," I chuckled before launching a powerful kick at those men who were harassing Karlo.

And he was now known as Breaker. There was a small earring on Breaker’s ear. And soon it shone brilliantly, prompting a small smile on Breaker’s face. He looked at Lina and Rage who were now staring at him and said, “We are getting closer.” “Good,” Rage smiled broadly. “I have been thirsting for some blood,” Rage licked his lips greedily and said. The lust that had built up in him was frustrating, for there was nothing he could release it on. But he could convert that frustration to bloodlust.

He felt like the courage he need, was the cigarette he just smokes, looks at his Gang, stares at the sky. “They started it and we will end it” he grunts, in his eyes express, fury and animosity “yes” A voice shout, as others nodded, “This is not a challenge fight, is an avenge for the death of my baby sister” his voice break, he presses his finger on his eye, wipe a drop of tears “They will pay dearly” a voice said “Blood will flow, when I mean blood will flow, I mean blood will flow” he whispered, lighten a stick of cigarette on his mouth, as he released the flame on air, it circulates

“…Fuck.” The second I step onto the Blood Fang pack grounds, chaos slaps me in the face like a damn insult—loud, jarring, and completely out of control. It’s deafening. Voices scream and chant, fists raised in the air. The entire pack has turned upside down. There’s no order, no structure—just complete madness. And through the noise, one name keeps echoing, again and again, making my blood boil: Khoas. They’re actually protesting for that bastard. I can hardly believe it.

I tried convincing them, and thankfully they saw the situation the way I did. The witches scattered around the pack, trying to use our magic to stop this bloody fight. **** Killian's point of view Ryker and I felt the rage pumping within us. Our emotions were on overdrive. All I wanted was to get to Sheila and kill those bloody bastards for taking what was mine. I tried not to think about anything else. I couldn't bear the mere thought of something bad happening to my sweet mate. I growled in rage, as my army and I reached the Black Blood Pack.

I can spot a liar from far, because I am one. “Do I look like I’m playing games?” Rage asked, reaching for three arrows. He shot one and nearly missed his head, another nearly missing his shaft, another missed his hands. “You're a psychopath,” the man screamed, his saliva drenching out. “Where's your brother?” he asked again. “Home,” the man replied. Rage quickly rushed outside and I followed him. His men at the door immediately entered in. Only screams could be heard. We walked outside.

Anger and fear flooded my veins in equal measures. Pixel. Well, that's what everyone called him anyway. I'm sure that's not his real name, but my mother had sworn to me she wasn't mixed up with him anymore. Not after she ended up owing him a lot of money, which I had to help her pay back. He has a violent reputation. It didn't matter if you owed him ten dollars or thousands. Money was money to him, and you had better pay. Rumors on the street say he has killed...more than once, and beatings were a common thing with him.

"Not you. Not Kael. Not the Pack." I move. Not away, but toward him—ducking under his outstretched hand, bringing the kitchen knife up in a sweeping arc that catches his forearm. The blade is dull, but the force of my rage is sharp enough to make him stumble back, hissing, the sickle clattering to the floor. "You stupid girl," he snarls, clutching his arm. "You have no idea what you’re rejecting. The power—the safety—" "I don’t want your safety," I say, backing toward the window. "I want my own."

No one calls me Rage. "No one calls me rage except dad, no fucking one. You. Have. No. Fucking. Right. To. Call. Me. Rage." I explained and reached into my pocket, brought out my pocket knife and drew a long scar on her face as she screamed out loud in the sweetness of pain. I heard the door slammed open and I was pulled off her immediately. I trashed in their arms and screamed out in pain when I felt the familiar, horrifying taser shocking my skin, seeping into my blood, almost drying it up.