Pucca Angry Novels & Stories

"I want to know how you're actually doing. Not the sanitized version you give Dr. Patel or Marco. The real answer." Luca was quiet for a long moment. Then he said, "I'm angry all the time. At Viktor, at the people who hurt me, at you for not finding me sooner, at myself for being weak enough to get taken in the first place. I'm angry and I don't know what to do with it." "You weren't weak. You were nineteen and vulnerable and targeted specifically because of me." "I know that logically. But logic doesn't change how I feel." Luca pulled his knees up onto the bench. "Dr. Patel says anger is part of the healing process. That I need to let myself feel it instead of pushing it down."

"Or what? You'll tell Kenneth? Oh wait, he already knows you're a slut who opens her legs for anyone." My hand moved before my brain could stop it. The slap echoed through the night air, and Lara stumbled backward, holding her cheek in shock. "You bitch!" she screamed. "Me? I'm a bitch?" I stepped closer, my wolf pushing forward, making my eyes glow crimson. "You sucked off my boyfriend in a toilet, and I'm the bitch?" Lara's eyes widened with fear. She'd never seen my wolf before; none of them had. And now that she was here, she was angry.

Luca By morning, the fight was everywhere. I woke up to forty-seven missed calls and a text from my publicist that was mostly capital letters. The clip had been viewed eleven million times before midnight. Sports analysts were doing frame-by-frame breakdowns of the moment I dropped my gloves. Commentators were calling it a meltdown, a loss of composure, a side of Luca Devereaux nobody had seen in a decade. One panel show ran a fifteen-minute segment titled The Captain Cracks and used photographs of my face mid-fight that I had not known existed until that morning.

I was also aiming for him. I dodged his attack. I hit the puck, my chest heaving. And then I heard it. The voice of that hypocritical bastard. The announcer. "Ladies and gentlemen, Jax seems to not be ready to go down without a fight. We now have one mark each for each team and one last period to take on. But before that, a short ad break to showcase our sponsors."

"At least Adrian's honest about hating me. You're just pathetic." Luca's expression darkened. "You don't understand—" "I understand perfectly." I spotted a wrench on the nearby workbench and grabbed it. "You're a cocky, arrogant alpha who thinks every girl should fall at your feet. Well, guess what? I'm not interested." I threw the wrench. My aim was terrible—probably because I was still technically injured and running on pure rage—but it sailed past Luca's head and smacked directly into the side of his pristine black Porsche with a magnificent *clang*.

I didn’t think that it would land me in this situation. A pig climbs on top of me, and I turn my face away and scream again. They’re laughing, and the sound angers me so much. So damn much. I could kill them for doing this to me. For trying to brutalize me in this way. When the man with the ponytail collapses on my side and the silver medallion leaves my skin, I automatically throw a punch at the man on top of me. I don’t care that it hurts my hand. I punch him until all my anger dissipates, and it doesn’t. I don’t have a chance to do it more because he’s pulled off me swiftly, and when I look up, I see Pollux.

Cam and Angelo were having what appeared to be an argument as Angelo held unto his tender nether region that Cam had hit earlier. Meanwhile she stubbornly had her arms folded on her chest, not seeing anything wrong with what she had done. “What the fuck?! What do you mean by that? What do you mean by you did nothing wrong?! You hit my fucking dick so hard it went lump!” Angelo said, or shouted rather.

Luca asked, his voice a venomous drawl, that same bone-deep, unsettling tone that chilled me. “Nothing is going on between us,” I blurted out, hoping that maybe my denial would de-escalate him. “I swear.... Nothing.” “Nothing is going on between the two of you?” he repeated, mocking me. “Then tell me.... can you hear him right now? Can you hear how hard he’s banging on that fucking door?” His voice was pure spite, his smirk stretching wider. He was enjoying this. “You know what?” Luca said, stepping forward, fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. “I was really angry when I got those pictures. Really fucking angry when I got the report. Yesterday.”

He growled and she blanched at his cold tone. “I know you are angry and I don’t blame you but I promise it was all a mistake. Please forgive me” She pushed her lips forward and they trembled as tears gathered in her eyes as she tried to appear sexy or cute but to Luca, she looked ridiculous. “That’s where you are wrong. Why should I be angry? You don’t mean anything to me” He drawled, Luca appeared cool on the outside but he was boiling with rage but that didn't mean he would show her how angry he was.

What if his absurd accusation gets little support? “Gosh! I don’t understand: What’s your problem? If I flirt with other men, that’s none of your business? Ain’t I right?” Her words hit him like a blister on his skin, making him feel the urge to push her away from him. Anger covers him from every angle. “Warning!” “Excuse me! This is my lif—“ she can’t complete her sentence. “F**k your life!” A wave of shock courses through her after witnessing his explosive anger which darts a realization that protesting in such a situation would be an ill-advised decision. As his rage intensifies, the atmosphere transforms into one of palpable horror. With a steady gaze, Rosalia studies him intently, her f