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Wolves Of War

This book will no longer be updated. War, blood, and gore. This is exactly what a werewolf story should contain. This story follows a werewolf who is now known as Fenrir. He was given this name by the people of ancient Norse who revered his power, and put him in their mythology. This story takes place in the modern day, and will follow his slow decent into madness. With opportunities to redeem himself, what path will he choose? This is my first book so the writing isnt going to be top tier, yet. The more I write the better i will get, hopefully. Let's hope so before the story gets really juicy.

LupusDeus · Urban
Not enough ratings
13 Chs

Vengeance

"Do you want to make a little wager before we begin? Think of it as a game, and if you win I will spare your life." I say.

"Go fuck yourself you insane bastard. You just said that you would kill me. Why should I believe you?"

He is surprisingly feisty for someone in his situation. His adrenaline must be kicking in. The fight or flight response of the body found in almost every animal.

"What, don't you want to see your family again? I'm just trying to give you a chance here, and it's not like you have a choice."

"I understand that. but why do you have to make this into a sick game?" he says.

"Because games are supposed to be challenging. In normal torture scenarios, there is an end goal of getting information from someone. Since you don't have any information that I want, I need a different end goal."

"What is this goal of yours?"

"Oh, it's not my goal, it's yours. All I need you to do is remain conscious while I break twenty of your bones. If your still awake by the time I'm done then you win."

I force him to the floor on his stomach with little struggle, I pin him down and grab his ankle. The main point of this game is to try to keep him awake so that he can feel everything. No point in torture if they pass out.

"This isn't right. Please you don't have to do this, I will do whatever you want just please stop." He says as he's sobbing.

Now this is just pathetic, I haven't even hurt him yet and he's crying already. Seeing a grown man cry is just cringy to watch, I would rather hear him scream. I don't want to hear any more talking either. I find some manage to find some rags that I stick into his mouth.

With one quick motion, I break his ankle the bone snaps followed by a bloodcurdling scream. He doesn't scream for long though, thanks to his adrenaline, he won't be able to feel much until it wears off.

"One down nineteen more to go." I say.

I break the second ankle and work my way up. Next up are the shins one at a time they snap like toothpicks, and each time his screams even louder through his gag. After I get done breaking his forearms and humerus he eventually passes out.

I decide to walk over to the couch, sit down and take a well-needed break. All this excitement really gets exhausting, and to think that I'm not even halfway done yet.

I need to wait for him to wake up before I can continue. I still haven't attempted to find Chenoa yet, maybe I get sidetracked too often before I finish a job. A smoke is what I need, a nice cigarette to calm my nerves. I pull one out, light it and take a long drag from it.

I'm just like Hakan, I didn't listen to my own advice that I gave to him. I let my emotions get the better of me.

This has become boring, but it was fun while it lasted. I should have just killed him in the first place, vengeance isn't something that I should take joy in doing. Vengeance is something that should be done out of rage. The only thing I can find joy in right now is fighting.

I was wrong to unhinge myself, it leads to mistakes in judgment, and those mistakes can be fatal. It seems that I have become weak working for others, not being able to do what I want whenever I want. It's because of that I have been holding in my bloodlust if I only let out a little at a time things like this wouldn't happen.

The man eventually wakes up but is still barely conscious. Unable to move his body due to the pain and broken bones he just starts to groan.

Even though he deserves to suffer I can't help but feel pity for him in this state. I have been in similar situations like he is now so I know what he is going through, rather what I put him through.

In the end, what did he expect? This line of work he has gotten into, something like this was bound to happen sooner or later. The only difference between us is that I don't care what happens to me. I don't care how much pain I'm going to suffer, I would never beg someone to spare my own life. I've chosen this bloody lifestyle and I need to accept what consequences come to pass.

I finish my cigarette, throw it on the floor and walk over to him to remove the gag.

"Please just kill me." He barely manages to say.

"I don't feel sorry for doing this to you since you deserved it. You only have yourself to blame for this, and for what happens next."

I no longer feel joy from his suffering any longer, but that doesn't mean I should stop here. The werewolf he put on display still needs to be avenged. Prolonged torture is no longer an option for me however, a slow and painful death is.

"Before I kill you I will tell you a true story. In 1779 there was a soldier named Thomas Boyd who was leading a small regiment in New York. They were ambushed by Indians, his soldiers were killed and Boyd was captured. They decided to kill him by disemboweling him, tying his intestines around a tree and forced him to run around it until he died."

"Why are you telling me this." He says.

I didn't answer him, I simply stared at him with a blank expression on my face. I think he knew what was about to happen after a few minutes of silence. He starts to panic, breathing heavily, and trying to crawl to the door with what use of limbs he still had. He tries to stand up, forgetting that his shins and ankles are broken. When he finally manages to put some weight on one of his legs, the loose broken shin bone goes through his skin and he falls back down screaming in pain.

My heart starts to pound faster, a smile crept onto my face. What is this? I'm starting to get excited from this again. I finally get it now, It's not his suffering that I was feeling joy from in the first place, It was his fear. Seeing someone afraid of me gets me excited, I need more.

I quickly jump on him and turn him on his back. Placing my left hand around his neck I begin to squeeze lightly enough just so he can't scream. With my right hand, I begin to slowly cut across his stomach just above his belly button with one of my claws. His intestines start to protrude out, and I begin to pull on them. Releasing my hand from his neck I use both hands to tie his intestines into a rope, wrap them around his neck and begin choking him with it.

I stare into his eyes as his face begins to turn blue, and before I know it the life begins to fade from them.

Its finally done, now I can get back to completing my job but before I can do that I should wash the blood off myself. Just imagine one of the guards walking in on this mess, to see the shock on their face would be priceless.

After cleaning myself off I decide it's time to get out of here and find Chenoa. It's time to take care of my next victim.