Woke Up And Chose Violence Novels & Stories

yelling at him, her eyes bright, alive, free of the darkness that had haunted her for years. He closed his eyes, exhausted, and fought to cage the beast inside him that was screaming to tear everything apart. "I know," he said, his voice raw and raspy. Lorenzo hung up and walked out of the bloody warehouse. The cold wind filled his lungs, but it couldn't blow away the toxic jealousy and rage in his heart. "Get the private jet ready," Lorenzo ordered his assistant. "I want a flight to Vienna for tomorrow morning. Now." He leaned against the car, lit a cigarette, and tasted nothing but bitterness.

They hadn’t expected the wrath of a man scorned to find them here, in this hidden heart of the city. I didn’t hesitate. Violence was immediate, precise, unflinching. One man lunged at me with a crowbar—I grabbed his wrist, twisted, and sent him crashing into a stack of crates. Another came at me from behind; I pivoted, elbow driving into his ribs, then a swift kick that sent him sprawling across the concrete. The sound of their impact echoed through the building, a symphony of pain and fear orchestrated by my hands.

"Ahhh..." A blood-curdling scream pierced the quiet morning air. Layla slowly woke up, frowning at the panicked Liam. "Why are you screaming? Shut up. If anyone should be screaming, it's me, not you. You're a grown man; why are you screaming?" Liam pointed incredulously at Layla, then at himself. "You... you... I..." Layla leaned back against the bed, looking at Liam with a calm gaze. "Haven't you heard of a one-night stand at your age?"

Again and again, until he stopped moving. And the sickest part? The staff didn’t even intervene. They just dragged him away, left me standing there with blood on my fists and a fire in my chest. They were all monsters. And that was the night I realized something important. No one was coming to save me. If I wanted out, I had to save myself. So I did. Years later, after the orphanage spit me out, I joined the military. Discipline came naturally to me. Violence was second nature. And for the first time in my life, I had purpose. Which was something that kept me going.

And through it all, I decided to take a walk. It might have been a cowardly thing to do. I won’t argue otherwise. But it was the best option I had with my heart threatening to shove itself out of my throat. At the beginning of this wild ride of mine, I had just run some powders. Sometimes went along when someone needed to be intimidated. It wasn’t this kind of violence. Mindlessness.

"Look what the cat dragged in. Right on time for the fireworks, Giovanni." I didn’t speak. Speech was a weakness, a distraction. Every muscle in my body felt coiled, loaded, ready to unleash the storm. I simply advanced, my boots crunching softly on the concrete grit. Every step was a declaration of war. I radiated suppressed violence because violence was the only language Vlad understood, and the only response possible when someone touches what is mine. Then the screaming started. "Giovanni! No! Snipers! Bombs! It's a trap!"

“I didn’t think that we’d have to go to large lengths to get a morsel of information out of them. Vic is still there but I…I needed to catch my breath.” I wouldn’t even bother asking him what he meant by that. I knew, in a way. “I think it’s all going to work out just fine.” “I never wanted this,” he said. “The violence, I mean. I wanted peace. I wanted to run my father’s pack and make the most of it without having to ever get involved with bad people. But the choices I made led me here, and without violence, I’d never survive in this environment. I was never like Cyrus, who fought for fun.”

Lest he reaches through the bars and kills me early. Do I want to die? Is he crazy? The frustration almost caused me to scream again, to do something, anything with all this rage burning inside me. I resisted the urge, taking slow deep breaths before I spoke again. "I never planned this, I don't want this, but it is the card fate dealt me. It was my pain and suffering or his death. I chose me! I will always choose me." His eyes held no pity or sympathy not for me and not for my would-be rapist. Good, I didn't need or want that.

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE VALENTINA’s POV The following morning was definitely out of the ordinary. I woke up to the inviting aroma of pancakes and brewed coffee. Coffee was my favorite. I groaned while sitting up on the couch. It wasn't very comfortable. Yet, I hadn't anticipated being taken to bed. Fuck, if he laid a hand on me, I'd surely kill him.

I realise I've been untied, so I carefully and silently ease my hands around to my front. The rogues are too caught up in their violence, so I look around. Soul is sat on a chair, fast asleep. I grit my teeth. 'I fucking wonder.' I think to myself. I pull myself up and grab the closest thing, which is thankfully a large, sharp knife and stalk over to Soul. This is my fight and damn it, I'm going to fucking kill him. I place the knife to his jugular, before tapping his shoulder so he's awake. He flutters open his eyes in the way that used to have me quivering in need. Not anymore!