The Taste Of Revenge Novels & Stories

Her sobs echoed through the room as Rufus continued to berate her, his words sharp and merciless. I leaned back in my chair, my wine glass in hand. I took another slow sip, savoring the flavor. Ah, yes. Revenge. It was like this wine- rich and intoxicating. But unlike wine, it wasn’t best served cold. No. Revenge was best served hot and burning. And tonight, it was still cooking.

“Revenge.” ‎

I looked down at the food, my stomach twisted again—not from hunger, but from the slow return of something unfamiliar, fear, the thought of anything happening if I ate this food. But it worked both ways, I wanted death and if it was poisoned, I'd die, and If I didn't, it was a clarification of the fact that even though I served no purpose to the man in front of me, I was going to take revenge for every single thing the Cavarallos did to me. I picked up the spoon with a trembling hand and took another bite. Still tasteless. Still hard. But easier than the first. Sorrentino didn’t say anything. He just sat there, letting me eat in silence. Letting me take back my time.

He made absolutely sure he implanted his favorite quote to me, while growing up, which I made sure, did not go six feet under, with him. It states thus; Revenge tastes better when served cold. But war is a meal that must be devoured, scorching hot. With every bite, a reminder of the blood that has been spilled, and every fucking swallow, a Vow, never to forget the price that was paid. I think it is safe to say, my revenge plan is at a fucking zero degrees Celsius, and the impending war, which I simply cannot wait for, would be a meal that would never in my lifetime be forgotten.

Disdain flashed across her eyes, though she was forced to maintain the smile. "Mr. Jones, let's talk about the contract…" "I'll sign it!" Mr. Jones then pointed at a bottle of vodka, which contained 53% alcohol by volume. "That is, if you down that bottle." Ramona's smile froze on her face. Vodka with 53% ABV would definitely kill her if she were to down one of those bottles in one go. But she dared not turn Mr. Jones down. All she could do was act coquettish in front of him.

The Dark Moon pack was coming-and they were ready to fight. "Sophia," Ash said with eyes of a serious intensity. "Whatever happens, remember that your loyalty is to your family, your pack. We will protect each other." "I know," she said, her voice firming into an unmovable decision. "We'll fight together." It wasn't until the first silhouettes finally cut through the trees that Sophia felt her heart race in her chest. She was ready for whatever was to come next-ready to defend her family, her pack, and the love she still held within her for Daniel, whatever the outcome.

Prologue A 15 year old boy Liam Lautner who lived with his parents. They lived a happy life until their lives became upside down and a ruthless mafia boss named Marcus Davila killed his parents and sent the innocent boy to jail for killing his own parents. After 11 years when he returns to the city from the central jail Liam plans to meet his old friend Steve. Steven Manifold the son of one of the biggest company owner James Manifold. He decides to take revenge on his parents murderers and collects each and every information about him. They found out that Marcus is very sick and is near to death sooner or later he is going to pass away.

He stood behind me wrapping his arms on my waist. I flinched as he rested his head on my shoulder inhaling the scent of my hair. "This wasn't the way I planned things to be, making you marry me wasn't part of my revenge plan.” He whispered into my ears as he bit my ear lobe. My eyes widened at this statement. He…. He was doing this for revenge? Why? What did I do to him? Did he have something against my father before he died and was that the reason why he was doing this to me?

Then, the question hit me like a bolt of lightning;Where am I? I tried to steady my breathing as my eyes scanned around the room, Landing on the silver coated mirror and my breathing hitched. I was completely naked. The curtain slipped from my fingers, but I didn’t care. My reflection stared back at me, eyes wide, lips parted. My body was littered with marks—faint red bruises blooming on my neck, between my breasts, on my thighs. And just like that, it all came flooding back. Last night. The party. The drinking. The way I sneaked out of the kitchen—leaving my mother behind, roasting duck and humming under her breath—just to get a taste of what it felt like to be seen. To be someone.

He asked again in a very serious tone. “Kind of.” I honestly answered. It’s true. But the feeling of getting betrayed was far greater than the love I am feeling. I remembered the sick expression he have when he pushed me off the rooftop and how he shows no remorse after. That scene was engraved in my head and my heart. “Will you be taking revenge then?” “You ask a lot of questions.” I rolled my eyes and tucked some hair behind my ear. I heard him chuckle. “You want to learn from me to take revenge right?” He muttered in a low tone.