Woke Up And Chose Violence Romane & Geschichten

"You know that I'm not too fond of you. Why do you think I will help you?" I leaned forward and locked my eyes on him. "I'm tired, Holden. And when I'm tired and someone's trying to make things harder for me, then I use violence. I hate using violence, but I hate being lied to even more. I'm quite sorry to announce that you have just become my victim. You can either help me save this fucking pack and save yourself, or you can help me let off some steam... The latter you won't survive. Your choice." A peal of laughter escaped his throat. "I didn't expect to hear a threat from you." His mouth spread into a wicked grin. "I like it."

“You don’t like hearing it, but it’s true. You’re your father’s son. Your first instinct is always to choose violence, because it’s all you know.” I move before I think, one hand slamming against the map. She doesn’t flinch. “I killed him,” I growl, voice low and rough, “Because that was the only way to keep this pack from disintegrating under the weight of his blood lust.” “And I hated him,” she bites back, eyes bright with an old fury, “But I still wake up hearing the sound his neck made when you snapped it.” Silence slams down between us. The lantern flickers. My wolf stirs, restless, prowling the edges of my skin. I pull back, forcing my breath steady, letting the shadow of violence blee

That was something deeper, something drilled into me. A killer’s grace. “What am I?” I whispered. Kelly didn’t answer. --- Back in my room, I sat on the windowsill, moonlight soaking into my skin. My hands still trembled. I didn’t remember my name. But I knew how to incapacitate a full-grown man in five seconds. And worse, when I’d struck that dummy, I’d liked it. What kind of person finds comfort in violence? My breath hitched. There were no answers. Only questions. And a name that didn’t belong to me but echoed in my head nonetheless:

The death match Milo POV “Rise and shine, time to shed some blood!" The first thing that woke me up from my sleep was an irritating voice that boomed in my head, further increasing the migraine that wanted to split my head into half, like someone was hammering nails into my skull. I gritted my teeth, my eyelashes fluttering weakly. I didn’t in any way want to get up, but then, as if waiting for the right moment, I cracked open my eyelids …

My heart eased, and all I can see is Saint's smiling face. 'You can do it, baby! I am so proud of you.' Oh God, forgive me for this sin. I opened my eyes and immediately looked around. I can't die now. This kind of person is not going to bring me down, I can't allow it. I moved quickly when I felt a hand punch me. I grabbed that hand and twisted it, I heard a broken bone and a scream. I wasted no time and immediately kicked that man's neck. And I am now sure of it, I just made my first kill. Instead of being afraid, my desperation prevailed to join the ones who will be saved in our bloody fight.

“Do it.” I chose violence against myself instead. I tore away with a sound that didn’t belong to the living or the dead. My hands left her and found the world. The nearest thing was the hatch. I grabbed it and the wrist of the woman who would not fear me and threw her—hard, but I tried to make it not break her—through the square of dark and down onto the boards inside. Her cry was more anger than pain; the fact that I could tell the difference damned me.

Nikolai So today I choose violence…. Wait that’s not right. Let’s go again. Waking up in the heavens blessed sunny Thursday morning, violence had decided to choose me to take its course in my hands, which of course there was no way I would refuse getting my hands soiled in some motherfucker’s blood. So here I was, pummeling some insolent waste of space, who thought it was a bright idea to cross my path. I grabbed him by the collar, with him being barely conscious, “You can’t be fucking serious.” I tapped on his cheeks, wanting him to fucking stand up like a man and fucking fight me.

One who only knows violence. There was really only one way I could save anyone. It was the same way I destroyed everyone. Violence. Watching the doctor work with his hands, delicately examining her, trying to decipher the problem with nothing but light touches, I was both fascinated and bored. I could never see myself doing that. I'd rather punch another person to save one. That was the best and only way for me. "I don't think the Luna is in any danger," he said after a while. "But she fainted," Soren remarked.

When they dumped my sister Ayana Vale's body into the altar, it was in pieces, mangled beyond recognition. I overheard the warriors who had dumped her body there. They said she had been framed for conspiring with a witch to harm Lilith Voss, Silver Moon's future Luna, and had been subjected to dozens of brutal tortures before she finally died. "No one really believed she was working with a witch. They only had Lilith's word for it. But the Alpha refused to let Ayana defend herself. He simply decided that Lilith's miscarriage had been caused by a witch's curse. Poor girl kept calling out for her sister right up to the end." That was how I learned what had happened to Ayana. I was away sacrifi

I laughed at the way violence was usually the way I got my way and started walking too my destination. I looked around me enjoying the sight of people in their own little world and how mysterious the world works at night. I usually always did my "work" in the night, it made it easier with the darkness covering my identity and most of the time they had their guard down. I had two ways to kill people: Either I would seduce them at some event or even in public or I wouldn’t bother and just kill them. I didn’t like seducing the men because most of the time they can’t keep it in their pants for more than 2 minutes so it’s harder to make sure we are alone when I kill them.