Seeking Vengeance Novels & Stories

"But please, when something like this happens again, don't take such a risk again." Exactly what I wanted—the blind trust. By jumping in front of Mr. Fernandez and shielding him from the gunshot, I had finally gained the trust of everyone in the family. Now, my mission of vengeance will begin properly. A crooked smile spread across my face as I watched Sergio speak. I was definitely going to get even with his family soon. "Please be more careful," Sergio finished. "I will," I murmured. "I promise." A promise I wasn't sure of keeping. The price of vengeance was high and I was willing to pay for it.

Or wanting to exert vengeance on. Yet, some softer, vulnerable part of me wants her to stay as mine. To cherish her. To care for her. Vengeance and tenderness don’t blend together. Somewhere along the line, one will overpower the other. I wonder which of these powerful feelings will triumph against the other. My tenderness and vulnerability for Dawn. Or my raw hanker for vengeance? I don’t why I hanger for vengeance. For revenge but some dark parts of me wants it. Some twisted part of me craves it.

I also had to work very hard to get those mafias to spare my life. “Bastard, I will definitely kill you.” With that, Duane left with an angry face. I guess he's planning to get his revenge on me in the most painful way, so I have to leave the factory as soon as possible. At least in another area, he wouldn't dare kill people. But when Alva wasn't here, PSS wouldn't let me go anywhere else, so I tried to stay away from Duane, thinking that would make the hatred in his heart subside. But on the contrary, Duane thought I looked down on him, he almost killed me.

And now, Avery’s request was a mirror of my own inner demons—a yearning for vengeance and healing all wrapped in one desperate plea. There was a hunger there, a longing for power that had been buried under layers of pain and loss. I felt both protective and alarmed. A tightness coiled in my chest. I had seen this hunger before—in the eyes of men who had nothing left to lose. Some survived it. Most didn’t. “Avery,” I murmured, glancing at her. “Vengeance —it’s a double-edged sword, Avery. Once you unleash it, there’s no going back.”

He narrowed his eyes: "Sam, step aside." "I won't." I felt a soreness in my throat, choking out the words: "Kent I want revenge against Leila, and you think I'm disgusting, right? So by your point of view, I should be a saint, not resent her for all the harm she had done to me before, and even be kind to her?" He looked very agitated by my rebuttal, his face becoming even darker: "I didn't say that, Sam, There are countless ways to retaliate; please don't choose the most base one. She just beat you up. You could simply hit her back. Why resort to such despicable means?"

This was someone wound too tight, someone being pushed toward something dangerous. Rob’s tone softened, but it was firm. “Revenge isn’t going to fix anything, Vince. It never does. It only creates a loop you can’t get out of. It drags you in, then drags the next person, and the next, until nobody remembers what they were even fighting for.” Vince swallowed, jaw clenched. His mind wasn’t calm enough to hear the reason. Veronica’s voice was still loud in his head. His father’s death was still fresh and his pride was bruised and his anger was hungry.

"You thought you could curse us and get away with it? You thought wrong." Aline's voice shook with a mixture of grief and determination. "Our baby may be gone, but his memory will fuel our pursuit of justice. We will expose your darkness, Isabella and Erick, and ensure that the pain you've caused comes back to haunt you." The pack members exchanged determined glances, their loyalty to Aline and Ethan unwavering. The unity that had once defined their pack was now a weapon against those who had betrayed them. As Aline and Ethan walked away from the gathering, their eyes remained fixed on Isabella and Erick. The fire of revenge burned within them, fueled by the memory of their baby's innocent f

The man who had also lost a woman he loved, a woman who had died for a cause she believed in. She stumbled towards him, her body shaking, and collapsed into his arms. Dante, his rage momentarily forgotten, simply held her. He felt her frail, trembling body, the raw fear and pain emanating from her, and his grip tightened, a silent promise of vengeance. Her escape was a brutal, scarring journey. She was alive, but barely. She had lost her innocence, her naiveté, and now, Bianca, the only true ally she had ever known in this dangerous world. But in Bianca’s sacrifice, Amara had found something she had been desperately searching for all along: a purpose. A purpose fueled by grief, guilt, and a

"If you hadn't egged me on, I never would've gone after Finnegan! I never would've... I never would've killed my own brother by mistake!" Their voices grew louder, raw with rage. Then came a crash, and Vincent's voice ripped through the air, "Your whole damn family deserves to die! Finnegan should've died! You three siblings should all rot in hell!" "Don't you dare say that!" Then came the sound of a man's scream. It would appear that Celeste had lost it and started hitting him. I listened to the sound of his ragged breathing, waited for the exact moment when he was on the cusp of death, and walked in.

“You are losing control. I can feel it.” My wolf spirit surged in response. My vision sharpened and my heartbeat slowed dangerously. “Do not test me,” I warned. “Someone has to,” she said. “Because while you play strategist, you are forgetting what vengeance demands.” At that word, something inside me cracked. It was vengeance. It had lived in me for years. It had shaped every decision I made after the massacre. I had not forgotten every moment of alliance, compromise or restraint. I had not forgotten. Instead I had refined it all