Monroeville Rage Room Novels & Stories

They were covered in drywall, with purple paint as the base and a black mosaic pattern. Along the edges were purple LED lights. Like our other bases, this one had a giant neon sign with the word Renegade and a lightning bolt intertwining with the letters. The main room was also split up, with a half-wall room divider near the front, where a reception desk sat. The rest of the room was open, with different areas for different things. There was a gym, another boxing arena, a large rectangular table where we would hold meetings, an area with a massive computer set up, and a target range enclosed by bulletproof glass. Everything was on display, and I wasn’t sure if I liked that part.

I asked, unlocking the front door. “Well, she’s driving, you know she gets carsick if she doesn’t drive.” I opened the door, Maverick stood in the living room, waiting on me. “Uh, Dad, can I call you back?” “Wait,” he said. “We’re actually in Baton Rouge, we want to see your new apartment. Send us the address.” My mouth opened and silence came out. Oh no … “Well, I’m not at the apartment right now—,” “We’ll wait for you, maybe grab a bite to eat, your mother was adamant, she said you’ve been ignoring her phone calls.”

Still see his knuckles resting against her shoulder as he turned the wheel. “Enjoy your little moment, Oliver,” I muttered under my breath, my voice sharp and low, thick with venom. “Because it’s going to be your last.” Oliver’s POV The hostess greeted us with a syrupy smile the moment we stepped into Monarch, the most upscale restaurant in the outskirts of town, just bellowing close to city. Velvet-draped walls bathed in low golden light, tables set with bone-white porcelain and flickering candles, and an ambiance so serene you could almost hear the ice in the cocktails shifting as people laughed softly over four-course meals.

Floating before her was a detailed three-dimensional rendering of the Central Coliseum—a soaring, seventy-thousand-seat athletic cathedral located in the heart of Archon Malakor’s corporate territory. "The Coliseum is a fortress," Agnes said, her voice sharp as a diamond as her fingers flicked across the holographic interface, expanding the building's lower subterranean levels. "Morrigan isn't just holding Maeve in a standard holding cell. If she’s threatening to put her in the pit, Maeve is being kept in the Sub-Level Four staging pens. It’s where they keep the rogue fighters and beasts before a death-match." Rhys stepped up beside her, his massive frame towering over the tactical table. Th