Scarred Villains Novels & Stories

I matured too early because the damage was too heavy. I have scars decorated all over my body, perhaps I should get more tattoos to cover my scars, but can I show my vulnerability in other to cover it?, Can I open my scars in order to close it?. Even if I get tattoos, the scars run deep, deeper than even I can think. It is sad, the way I'm broken, how damaged I am. My filth disgusts me, my scent irritates me, my ways annoy me, my image is a shame, my hatred for myself grows deeper day by day. Despite knowing the things I do, the wrong things I do, I can't stop, I'm addicted to evil, to bad, to darkness.

“Oh, wow. That’s so crazy. Gosh, my head hurts already. I don’t want to think about anything.” “It’s okay, I understand,” June nodded. “I’m sure the reason he kidnapped Luke was because he knew Luke knew everything you knew.” Elena sighed. “He’ll be fine, right?” “I’m sorry. I can’t promise you anything,” June replied, her gaze shifting from Elena. “Conor is scarier than you could ever imagine. He has no human feelings whatsoever. I mean, look at us, both tied up here without even knowing where or-” “Shh,” Elena cut June off. “I hear footsteps.”

Mom, late dad and the entire pack will regret picking him over me. They'll view me their alpha and suffer under my rule. They'll plead for mercy. A hero. A hero never to arrive. I'll enslave them. They'll serve me. I'll penetrate deep scars on their spines. Scars incurable by our enhanced healing. The scars will be seen by their lineage and generations. They'll remember the scars in their after life and next world. A reminder scar to always pick Drake dark over his spouse, opponent or contestant. A scar which reminds them of their wrong decision.

His gaze moved to the twins, glinting with a predatory gleam before settling down on her with a sneer. A wave of icy dread crashed over her, and Scarface saw it because his face split into a cruel smile. "Friday, or they pay the price. You know what I'm capable of, don't you?" She knew. She knew what Scarface did to people who owed him. And worse, she knew the kind of shady business Scarface was into ranging from loansharking to organ harvesting.

Scar. The phone rang twice before a gravelly voice answered. "Well, well. If it isn't the Alpha king’s Beta calling the gutter rats." Scar was a former hunter of Blackcrest pack. He was banished by his Alpha for unnecessary brutality, even according to pack Laws. He went feral after his mate’s death and hasn’t quite healed. "I have a job," I said without preamble, eager to get my new set of orders carried out. "High pay, personal satisfaction guaranteed."

"Time they're sorry for all of this." I sat at my desk, flipped on my laptop, and opened a new folder. I titled it Project Rise. And in that script, I began making a list of every vulnerability, every threat, every weapon I had at my disposal to strike back. Victoria's business partners. Cassandra's father's company. Jake's compulsion to be number one. Anything and everything were up for grabs now. They thought I was finished. They thought I'd just vanish into thin air, marry some dull fellow or reappear in thin air.

It stopped being remarkable. It just became you. “Hey, Cole!” Victor ‘Scars’ Innis barked from the opposite end of the bar, dragging him abruptly back into the present. “Table six needs another two pitchers before they start a fucking riot.” Cole glanced over automatically, catching sight of the bar manager and club Vice-President weaving through customers with his usual terrifying efficiency, massive shoulders cutting through crowds like a battering ram. Scars looked exactly like what he was: a man built equally for violence and authority, his heavily scarred face and hulking frame carrying enough weight inside the Road Devils that entire rooms shifted instinctively around him.

After that, there was chaos. There were some driven crazy by the constant torture and they started a killing spree, killing anything that looked remotely human, but there was one unlike the rest of them. He didn't have a single scar; he was completely fine, even handsome. You would think he was a normal person if not for his eyes. They looked lifeless and at the same time murderous. He moved quickly through the mess of horrifying screams and blood. He was like a ghost that was floating.

It glinted in the light, a symbol of broken promises, before landing on the disheveled bed where their betrayal had unfolded. My piercing gaze remained fixed on it. "Consider it your reward for a game that you played so well," I stated, the bitterness in my voice seeping through every word. "And, well done, Leila. It seems you have found your perfect match," my words were like a dagger coated in bitterness, “Perfectly made from hell!“ my voice heavy with the agony of betrayal. Leaving the room, I walked away from the echoes of deception, my final words lingering in the air like an unspoken truth. The corridor outside embraced me in its quiet solitude, providing a refuge from the emotional st

He was shorter than Darian and much leaner, but there was power in his lithe body. She was staring and she couldn’t stop. He was a vision of lust in a world she was comfortably sure didn’t exist in any sense that mattered in the real one. She knew why he was disrobing himself, but instead of pushing him off her, she remained frozen and couldn’t bring herself to look away. The distinction between couldn’t and wouldn’t became even blurrier. Her heart pounded as Victor’s scar came fully into view. His chest was covered in what appeared to be deep claw marks, as if something had once torn desperately at his flesh in an attempt to expose his heart. She couldn’t fathom how anyone could survive suc