Book 1
Ranked #1 in badboys: May 2018
(Unedited)
♤♤♤
The Wulf family is infamous in the werewolf community. Their family was the first. The origins of their kind. They are more aggressive and beastly. Their wolves more ruthless and blood thirsty. Th...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Rage rushed out of the tent. The sounds of fighting had not reached him yet but he new they would.
He mentally kicked himself for not anticipating this. He should have known that two or three mutts going missing would have been fine, but five, they had caught on.
He had hoped to strike first, they beat him to it.
Everyone was exiting their tents, looking twords the trees, the air tense with anxiety and anticipation.
The sound of thundering paws on the hard ground was heard before they burst from the treeline.
Hundreds of wolves, both Rogues and Turned, in various stages of deterioration. All of them seemed to have a taste for blood as they attacked anything that moved.
The first wave was taken on by those closest to the trees, as everyone else rushed to help from farther inland.
Rage moved slowly, he wasn't scared to fight, quite the opposite. He was searching for their leader. Scanning the trees for someone standing back.
He caught sight of Wrath as he pulled his hand from a wolves throat. It fell limply to the ground before he pushed forward to his next target. The wolf was ready, glaring at him as he drew closer. It lunged, but Wrath caught it, wrapping his arms around its body. If Rage didnt know what was going on it would have looked like a hug.
Wrath squeezed it as it squirmed, unable to move. The wolf dropped as he removed his constricting arms.
Rage looked away as the limp body wheezed for breath to enter his punctured lungs within shattered ribs.
His eyes scanned the treeline and found a human figure standing far into the shelter of the trees. The only one still in human form.
He made his way through the fighting, the ground already flooded with blood and littered with bodies. Faces blurred as he tried not to look at them, tried not to wonder whose men they were.
A brown wolf jumped from behind one of the tents, swiftly lunging for Rage's leg. Just as swiftly, that leg swung out and kicked, connecting with the side of its head. The wolf let out a yelp as the other side of its head hit the ground.
Rage left the wolf there, not bother killing it. If it got back up someone else would take care of it. His eyes were focused on the smirking male in the trees.
Three more wolves lunged at him before he made it to the treeline. The first was swiftly taken care of with a dodge and grab, snapping it's neck. The other two came at him as a pair.
Somewhere in the back of his mind he laughed as they lunged from opposite directions, smashing into each other when Rage dodged their pounce.
The first to recover lost his throat, Rage caved the other's chest in, with his shoulder, like a linebacker and left him laying on the ground.
