Blind Assassin By Margaret Atwood Novels & Stories

My whole body had gone numb, my vision was blurry but I could see his cloaked figure. He was different from the girl that attacked me and Triscade but they wore similar cloaks. This one's aura was different, more deadly. “It's time to atone for your father's sin,” his voice echoed in my head. “You will be paralyzed for the next hour but I have a gift for you downstairs,” “Don't… touch… my …cousin,” I managed to utter. My body was trembling from just uttering words as I felt the poison from the knife spread through every part of my body.

She nodded and moved away, and I looked back out the window at the driveway and the black car and thought about six months of wrong decisions that had somehow, improbably, landed here — in this room, with these people, with something that felt like the beginning of an ending. The window exploded inward. Not metaphorically. Literally — glass everywhere, a crack like something had hit it at significant velocity, and before my brain had finished processing the sound I was moving because Adrian was already moving and Theo had dropped the rune marker and Audrey— Audrey was at the table. She wasn't moving. She was looking at her arm with the expression of someone who had just discovered something

No sound. No hesitation. Moonlight spilled through the window, illuminating the room in pale silver. The figure stepped inside. And closed the door quietly behind them. They approached the bed slowly. Aira slept peacefully, unaware of the danger only a few feet away. The hooded figure pulled a small blade from beneath their cloak. The metal glinted faintly in the moonlight. The assassin raised the blade. Then suddenly. A deep growl filled the room. The hooded figure froze.

His footsteps faded down the corridor, swallowed by the stone. Silence pressed in around her. And in that silence, Ashbane memories clawed back into her mind. The silver cuffs biting into her skin. The taste of blood in her mouth. The cold stone under her cheek. The feeling of being alone, forgotten, punished for things she never did. A memory snapped forward. Ashbane's guards dragging her by her wrists, silver burning deep, her body too weak to fight. A boot in her ribs. The sound of the tower door slamming. The same emptiness. The same helpless, breathless terror.

I lowered my hand into the bowl and let the last bloodlight crawl over my fingers. The vision struck at once. Ashina giving birth beneath black feathers. Daciana screaming as Rudina’s crown burned above her head. Bardolph and Conri kneeling with their wolves chained by the same unborn heartbeat. Blackfang gates opening without guards. Northridge towers lowering their banners. Adolphus standing between both packs while every wolf bowed with empty eyes. I pulled my hand from the bowl with a cry that made Tala catch my shoulders. “What did you see?” she asked, and her fear shook through her hands into my bones.

I refused to give him the satisfaction of seeing me beg. The assassin hesitated for a fraction of a second, his brow pinching beneath his dark hood. "You do not even cry?" "I have faced monsters far more terrifying than a man hiding behind a piece of cloth," I whispered, my voice coming out raspy and quiet. "Then go join them in the ash," he snarled. He brought the poisoned blade down in a clean, deadly thrust aimed straight at my chest. A blinding flash of golden light tore through the room.

The day I get my sight back just happens to be my birthday. I plan to drop the good news on my wife, Mya Murray, during the birthday party she is throwing for me. Instead, I end up discovering a "surprise" she prepared for me first. Wrapped in a layer of gauze, my eyes are useless as Mya carefully takes my hand, leading me into the second-floor banquet hall. She whispers thoughtfully in my ear. "Honey, I know how much you love surprises, so I had a batch of roses flown in straight from overseas to build you a flower bridge and hired your favorite live band. "Every business titan and prominent media outlet in Hartwell is right here in this room to celebrate you. Do you like it?" She sta

So much so they couldn’t pay the electric bill last month. Lana had felt bad for the kid, not because he had leukemia, but because he had to grow up without a father. She had made a choice. Agent Brown had to die so she could live. She consciously chose herself over a little boy’s father. So, she had carefully rounded the corner of the bedroom. He had been coming up the stairs. She quickly aimed and fired twice. It blew him backward, but he wasn’t hurt. That’s when she had realized he was wearing a vest. He had raised his gun, but she fired off a shot aimed at his head. The bullet had gone straight through, splattering blood on the banister.

Will she take a chance on him despite the added complications of her pregnancy and past heartbreak? As Wynter's story unfolds, she must also confront the demons of her past, including a potential threat from a former lover with a dark agenda. Will she find the strength to forgive and move on? And ultimately, whom will she choose: the father of her child, or the man who has loved her unconditionally, especially without seeing her? In "Blinded Dreams," love shines as the only light in the darkness, and the heart sees all. Join us on a journey of twists and turns, where the boundaries of love are limitless and a blind man's perspective offers a unique window into the story's emotional depths

Upon reaching further, a bunch of crows fly above the trees making a creepy sound that echoed around the forest. “Damn it,” she muttered as she grip her knife ready to attack whatever creatures she will encounter. She heard something that crawls in the bushes behind her, she quickly look around with her sharp eyes observing the movements around the bushes. A raccoon suddenly hopped from the bush and run in front of her. She watches the raccoon climb up the tall trees as she put back her knife in her pocket. She should suppose to proceed when someone throws a thorn hitting her neck from the side. She gasped as she quickly pluck the thorn from her neck, it was like a rose thorn but longer, and