Side By Side Fury Novels & Stories

Behind the wheel was Wesley, his usually composed face now etched with a mix of coldness and anger. The lines on his forehead deepened, and even his grip on the steering wheel tightened, his knuckles turning white as if trying to control the storm of emotions swirling within him. The road stretched out before him, winding through the city. Buildings and streetlights blurred past in a haze, mirroring the anger in Wesley's mind. The hum of the engine provided a constant soundtrack to his racing thoughts, the rhythmic vibrations punctuating his inner turmoil.

Brute strength and boiling rage. Finally he pounced and we became a swirling mix of dark fur as we tore into each other. He bit my flank causing me to yelp whilst I buried my snout into his upper shoulder and tore away at him. I heard further yelps from further away and in a brief untangle from Wicknace I saw a terrifying sight. Troy was pinned by both Julien and Jimmy. Shit, I couldn’t help I had Wicknace already charging me for another round. There was never any guarantee we were going to come out of this alive.

I despiratley want to forgot. The air hangs heavily around us and suddenly turns cold in a way that has nothing to do with the sterile air blowing cold through the AC vents. Christian stares down at me, his jaw tight. Those dark smokey eyes become haunted as Fury erupts inside him. then they turn cold and cruel as the Arctic. "fine!" He hissed out of breath of air between his teeth just as he abruptly pulled to stop along the curb. Panic flares. "Why are we stopping?"

Mac lunged without hesitation, our shared fury propelling us forward. Killian met us mid-air with a thunderous collision, his sheer strength almost knocking us off balance. Pain shot through us instantly as his claws tore into Mac’s side, ripping through fur and flesh like it was paper. The force of the strike sent us spinning, but Mac twisted in mid-air, landing on his paws with a growl that echoed through the chaos.

Jake Jake took a deep breath as he surveyed the damage in the club. Ten Reapers lay dead on the floor. The civilian men that had been there had run the moment things turned ugly. Pussies. Jake was glad though. It was easier to kill with fewer witnesses and the remaining men would never even mention his name. He gritted his teeth as the stab wound on his side told him to slow down. “Fuck!” Buzzer said loudly, and knelt next to a body.

Talia lunged toward the nearest wolf with a grizzly snarl, muscles rippling beneath her fur. The forest exploded with motion—leaves whipping, earth scattering under her paws as she slammed into Bradly's side with bone-rattling force. Her teeth snapped inches from his muzzle, hot breath steaming in the cold air. The old wolf snarled back, a low, guttural sound that trembled between fear and defiance. It was enough to spark a fresh surge of rage through her.

“I won’t say I hate you, but I strongly dislike this side of you!”. I yell back, fixing her with a glare. “Love you too!”. She grins back, throwing a wink. Walking back towards our section, I absolutely hate all the eyes on us. Glancing at Millie, however, she seems completely unfazed. Halfway through the crowd, 4 guys block our path. They are wolves, that much I can tell. If their huge postures didn’t give it away, their scent sure did.

Thorne’s wolves were feral, drunk on twisted loyalty and ancient blood rituals. Link and I stood in the courtyard, back to back, as the first wave descended. Snow kicked up in bursts of silver and crimson as we shifted mid-strike—his obsidian wolf like a god carved from shadow, mine a spectral blaze of ivory and gold. They weren’t ready for us. My fangs found flesh. His claws found bone. We moved as one—fur and fire, blood and roar. Marcy and Dax flanked from the east, flares of magic and steel slicing the fog.

Two Ashmoor soldiers dead against each other like the last thing they did was fall into the same space. The sounds hit me before the visuals fully assembled. Metal against metal. The wet percussion of strikes landing on bodies that were past defending themselves. Screaming. Layered screaming from different positions on the road, each one carrying a different quality of pain. Fresh pain and deep pain. And underneath all of it, the snarling of shifted wolves that went past strategy into pure blood fury. Felix of Ironfang was on the left flank with his shoulder torn open to the bone but still