Strike Books In Order Novels & Stories

“Dammit!” Laura said as she spilled her coffee on her light floral blouse. She hadn’t seen the crack in the sidewalk as she was juggling her bag and coffee cup, trying to keep up with the foot traffic. “Just great. I hate Mondays,” she mumbled to herself as people hurried past her on their way to work on this bright, sunny day. She silently scolded herself for trying to cram a last-minute errand in before work. She carried on as she reached into her bag to pull out a napkin. She tried to wipe the coffee off, but only succeeded in rubbing it in further. Not looking up from tending to the stain, she bumped into a man, hard.

"Yes, I've already resigned. Since I'm no longer there, there's no need for the discount. Please proceed according to standard terms." "Understood."

I stepped toward him, anger boiling over. However, before I could get close, Nancy blocked my path. "Joshua, are you done making a scene? If you're not, you can keep going, but we're leaving." She yanked off her black mourning dress and tossed it carelessly onto the floor. As Gilbert walked past, he deliberately stepped on it, then glanced back at me, his eyes full of open provocation. My whole body trembled. The next second, I lunged forward and drove my fist straight into his face.

When another one of the girlfriends stopped me to get her some water, I dumped the whole glass over her head and strode right out of there. And with that, my resolve to leave Caleb grew even stronger.

’’ Silver ordered. Melissa moved towards me in the blink of an eye and quickly flipped me over. Then she pushed me to the ground, and before I could get up, she struck me with the stick repeatedly. The blows came rapid-fire, each landing with a loud thump until I could no longer defend myself, and I collapsed to the ground.

“What’s wrong?” The woman took the chance the chance to start sniffling and crying. “She raised her hand to me.” Demi looked at the woman with furrowed eyebrows. “Are you kidding me?” her hand was still on her cheek. “You freaking hit me!” Mitchel didn’t want to hear anything else from her. He raised his hand and slapped her across the other cheek. “Shut up. She’s your new mom. So, you’ll listen to her and do as she say.”

I pull it out from one of the back pockets, at which the screen lights up, but my face slackens when I read the two messages on it from an unknown sender: 21:35 Stay away from Priscilla. 21:37 This is my first and last warning.

He nudges me a few times to test my balance, smirking when I manage to stay upright. " I'm going to teach you what I call, Basic Strikes." Ramon demonstrates a series of punches, his movements sharp and deliberate. “Aim for soft spots. Jaw, throat, solar plexus. Never waste energy on useless strikes.” I mimic his movements, my fists snapping forward with more force than I expected.

“You don’t flail, you don’t swing like a drunken fool. Every strike must have purpose. Aim for the throat, the gut and the eyes.” Their faces paled but they were listening now. “Show me.” A ripple of hesitation passed through them before claws slid out one by one. Some glimmered sharp, others still looked weak, like they hadn’t been used properly in years. “Hit the dummies,” I ordered. The recruits turned to the straw figures. Their first strikes were laughable, some barely scratched the surface, others stumbled forward with too much force and lost their footing. One even yelped when the claw caught his own arm.