Cold Revenge Novels & Stories

His Dad had cut his holiday short because of this and he was sent back to london. "By the time Mummy came out of Jail, she wasn't preganant and we didn't see any baby. We were told she had a still birth due to stress. That was when we all made our decusion to revenge. We wanted Revenge by all means and f it was going to take a billion years to get an opportunity and give our sweet vengence, we would wait" "As time grew, and as I grew I decided to leave it for God. God is the only one authorised to Revenge but you see Laura and Mum. They would never do that. They would never."

I was tired of Isabella remaining in a coma while that coward was free, without paying for what he did to her. It was very frustrating to know that he hurt his daughter so much over the years and as a farewell he ended up almost killing her and he could walk free, my hatred and my desire for revenge was too intense, I wanted him to pay for everything. "Haven't you thought that maybe he is seeking revenge on you? After all he has nothing left to lose." "As long as he wants to get revenge on me and doesn't come to hurt Isabella anymore it's okay," I answered simply, this time I wouldn't let him hurt her again.

I scrub, I scrub until my skin is red, raw, as if to tear off the stain, the smell, the memory of that night. But it doesn't go away. The pain between my thighs is a constant reminder. The stain on the sheet is seared into my memory like a brand. I thought I was at the bottom of the well after Raphaël's betrayal. I was wrong. He had only pushed me to the edge. That night, in that unknown bed, I hit rock bottom. A muddy, icy bottom, where nothing matters anymore. Where you are nothing anymore. I collapse at the bottom of the bathtub, hot water streaming over my body that is no longer quite mine. And in the roar of the water, a new oath is forged, darker, more definitive than all the others. A

Quinton pressed at the faint red mark on the back of his hand and spoke in a pitiful tone, "Dr. Foster, I know you're upset about your hands. I only wanted to share the good news that I’d just published three papers in top journals, but you tried to hurt my hands instead?!" He had stolen my work in plain sight and won everyone's praise. As for me, I was already notorious. Voices of contempt and abuse rose all around me. Before I could say a word, Magnolia slapped me across the face. Then, she ground the heel of her shoe into the back of my hand. The pain nearly made me black out. "Quin never did anything to you! He's still thinking about you on his wedding day, and this is how you repay him?

Even then, my brief, fractured dreams had been a suffocating loop of dark eyes, the phantom heat of a large body trapping me against a marble counter, and the cloying, toxic scent of wintergreen. My ribs throbbed a dull, relentless rhythm beneath my heavy chest protector as I stepped out of the tunnel. Every breath of the zero-degree air felt like swallowing crushed ice. I welcomed the pain. It was a grounding mechanism, a sharp, physical reminder to rebuild the iron-clad walls Kael Sterling was systematically trying to dismantle. *If I win, you'll be at my command.*

I picked up my phone and took a photo of the ruined pot of ravioli, then another of the untouched ingredients covering the counter. I posted both online with the caption: "Seven years together feels just like this rotten meal. Beautiful on the surface, spoiled underneath long ago." After posting it, I dumped the entire pot into the trash—the torn ravioli, the cloudy water, all of it. Even the ingredients I’d prepared went straight into the garbage after that. If something had already gone bad, there was no point keeping it. Less than five minutes later, Kian called. The moment I answered, he started yelling, "Lane Miller, what the hell was that post supposed to mean? It’s New Year’s Eve. Do

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.

"Actually… She wants to see you again. I mean, one last time because she is going to another country." "Did I not hurt her so badly?" Colden bit his nail. "Didn't I? Yeah?" "Of course not!" Zephyrus tapped his shoulder. "You just need to find something to calm yourself when you are feeling the worst emotions." "I tried many things such as converting my anger. I also tried herbal medicine. I tried Raiden's suggestion, reading books when I am mad. I tried Hali's, too, dancing to the music. It didn't work." Colden looked down. There was sadness on his face. "I don't want to harm anybody."

The Armanis will wish they never met me. Revenge, they say, is a cold dish.

Primo explained. “Can I come up? It’s rather cold out here.” He asked and rubbed his arms for emphasis. What a weak little bitch if he thinks this is cold. This is nice weather. Cold is when it’s -40℉, and even that, I wouldn’t bitch about it being cold. If he wanted cold, he could know the cold of death when I ripped him to pieces. With a growl, Gunnar and I rushed out and tackled the jackass who dared ask to be invited into our mate’s room.