My Father's Eyes My Mother's Rage Book の小説・ストーリー

Breathless with anger, I glared at her before stalking away. The air in my room felt heavy and suffocating. My hands trembled, breathing heavily. With a clenched jaw, I paced around, sending the books on the shelves, flying across the room. “Mates are a weakness, son. They will drag you down. Power is all that matters,” the voice of my father rang in my head, fueling my rage. Grabbing my mug cup, I smashed it against the wall, the splattering sound, satisfying and refreshing. Memories flooded my head: My mother’s betrayal, the way it had broken my father, making him lose almost everything. I ripped my clothes from the hanger, casting them in the air wildly. My breathing became shallow, looki

my mother said, her eyes pleading. “You think I'm stubborn,” I said, my hands shaking with anger. “I need to know who my father is! You can't keep this from me! I'm not a child!” I could feel my voice rising again, becoming louder and more forceful. I was so frustrated, so angry. I couldn't let this go.

I asked again. I can not see them for everything that I can see is still blur. All I can see is two person facing each other but still, they looked blurred. But still, they did not answer my question. It took me to blink my eyes for several times before my eyes could clearly see them. "Mom? Dad? Why are you fighting?" My mother turns her head on me. "Talk to your father. Say to him that this house is mine!" she said. I can see the anger in her eyes. But, not just the ordinary anger that I saw everyday. I saw that anger so much years ago. That is the anger that leads me to severe punishment.

I pleaded, my voice trembling with fear and panic "This isn't the way to handle things. Please, just talk to me!" But Ryan seemed consumed by his rage, ignoring my pleas as he continued his attack on Nate. My heart shattered with every blow, torn between my loyalty to my mate and my compassion for my a friend. I wanted to do something, anything, to stop this violence, but I knew that any attempt to intervene might only escalate the situation further. Staring at Ryan in that state made me see my father in His Eyes. There wasn't any difference between them. He still had the same amount of Anger in him. The same amount of violence. how could I have not seen it before?

I say sweetly. Charles laughs. His gray eyes twinkle with life. He doesn’t look like he’s been suffering. If anything he looks fine. That irks me to no end. His face makes me want to punch it till it’s a bloody mess of bones and blood. This bastard. This slimy bastard. I turn to my mother. She’s glaring at me with a venomous look in her eyes. I greet her with a wordless nod then turn to my father. He stares at me blankly, his weathered face impassive, but his lips pressed together.

My mother reprimanded me but I ignored her. “I recognize that colour in your eyes, the yellow tint in your blue eyes which signifies you are enraged about something. I know, son. I am your mother and I understand you.” “Do you, mother? Then why? Why the hell is Xavier Fernandez here?!” I growled at her. I could feel my wolf brewing with rage inside of me and it was only a matter of time before I nearly turned. My mother edged closer with caution, her blue eyes glinted with worry.

for a few seconds I see red ,my vision blurs from the anger rising inside of me. I move so close to my mother calm as I look at her beautiful blue eyes " Mother if you ever call my son a mutt again ,you not going to like my reaction I am not sure if you will survive it ,we wouldn't want you to have an accident on those grand stair case now ,would we " her eyes widen.

We stood there, inches apart, his pale eyes boring into mine. I should have been afraid. I was afraid—my heart was hammering, my palms sweating. But beneath the fear, something else was rising. Something hot and bright and hungry. Rage. "You killed my father." "Yes." "You killed my mother." "Technically, yes." "You've spent decades taking pieces of my life." "Shaping it." He smiled. "There's that word again." I stepped closer. Close enough to feel his breath.

she hissed in annoyance, her eyes blazing with hatred. “Hey!” My mother shouted. I pulled my hand back quickly, her words whipping across the air and slicing my heart. I stared at her, shock swirling inside my head. Her eyes held nothing but anger and malice. Her eyes flickered behind me, glaring daggers at my mother. I could see her eyes glazed over in tears, glassy and fragile. “How can you support this? How can you cheer the fact that your son likes to take it up the ass?”

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t