Woke Up And Chose Violence Novels & Stories

The agony of that loss, mixed with the burning desire for justice, had shaped me into a person capable of enduring even this nightmarish revelation. I felt my body respond as if it had a mind of its own. The power within me surged, an almost palpable force that beckoned to be unleashed. My eyes snapped open, and I stared at the cultists as if daring them to force my hand. “I—I choose…” I began, my voice trembling with the effort of control.

"What are you saying? They are selfish. Just that." Julio continued to erect the dominoes. He sighed and spoke again, "we had a lot of options. We can stay peaceful from the very beginning, but we chose violence . . ." He flipped the dominoes, causing those to keep crashing. ". . . and we will forever choose violence because peace was never an option." A moment of silence reigned between the two of them as they watched the dominoes in front of them collapse simultaneously. "Fear was the reason why violence existed." The last domino had fallen.

The word is steady this time. I close my eyes. He waits. “I felt it too,” I whisper. His head snaps back toward me. “What?” “When you struck him. When he broke. I felt the surge.” “And?” “It thrilled me.” The admission tastes bitter. His expression shifts from defense to shock. “You?” “Yes.” “You hate violence.” “I do.” “Then why—” “Because it felt like justice,” I cut in. “Because it felt like we were no longer prey. Because for once, we were not begging.”

My reflection in the blackened window looked like a man who’d learned to move through nights without trust. I didn’t even bother with the niceties. I wanted the room to go quiet enough that the sound in my head would become the loudest instrument. I wanted pain in the purest form—sharp, focused, surgical. Violence, sometimes, is a solution in need of hunger to make it complete.

Piper's fingers wildly moved against her rings, and I took note of that before I turned around to leave. Before joining the web, I was never the king to get directly involved with violence. I never really had the stomach for killing without a second thought. But after joining the web, I was exposed to the utmost violence it could provide, and after almost losing my life to the fire that calmed my family's mansion and half of my body, violence built a home in my heart. It started with the desire to kill that woman who tricked me, and when I was robbed of the chance to get my revenge, I turned my attention to others.

Just breathe. I swear to everything holy and unholy, the urge that rushed through me in that moment was not calm, curiosity, or awe. It was violence. Pure, jealous, highly unreasonable violence. Because the second Jayden’s hand closed around Victor’s wrist, my first thought was I should cut that hand off. Victor’s hand. Not Jayden’s. I am not insane. Just… passionate. And then Victor inhaled like he had been holding his breath for a century. He jerked awake so hard the doctor actually cursed out loud, which honestly felt validating because at least I was not the only one internally screaming.

Ruining Luciano’s party in the process. My doll’s fierce gaze reappeared in my mind, her voice drifting back to me. She had wanted to know if I would kill everyone who touched her, and truly, I would. The fastest and most effective way to get things done, in my world, was violence. Even the kingdom of God suffers violence, and only the violent take it. With a compelling force. I had just come into my bedroom and was cooling off with a glass of whiskey, after an intense punishment session with her.

“I can’t, I can’t do this, there’s too many of them and I don’t know how to fight and we’re going to die here and I just want to be home and—” I slapped her lightly. She blinked, focusing on me. “Yes, you can,” I replied firmly. “You’re going to get up, and you’re going to run with me, and we are going to make it through this. On three." I picked up a gun from a machine guard he had killed. My hands were steadier than they had a right to be. I was starting to feel disturbingly comfortable with violence. "One. Two. Three."

he begged. I hesitated for a moment, considering his plea. But then I remembered how many times he had promised to pay me back and failed to do so. I couldn't let him get away with it again. Without warning, I pulled the trigger and watched as Vincent's body fell to the ground, blood pooling around his head. I felt no remorse, no guilt. This was the life I had chosen, a life where violence and brutality were necessary to survive. "Clean up this mess and pack those money," I instructed my men and walked out of the house to my car.

I reach her— Just as one of them grabs her arm. I don’t think. I don’t calculate. I destroy. One down. Second— third— They fall. All of them. The room goes quiet again. Too quiet. I pull her behind me. Breathing hard. Body screaming. But still standing. Always standing. Adrian watches from across the room. Unmoved. Untouched. Unbothered. “You chose violence,” he says. “No,” I reply, my voice low and deadly. “I chose her.” A pause.