Born To Run Novel Novels & Stories

I stop and shudder every time he does it, but it only drives me to run faster and farther – to force him to prove himself by catching me. I don’t know where these instincts came from, and while I might not be able to explain them, there’s no denying how right this feels. Why have I never run barefoot through the woods before? Why have I never bathed in the light of the moon? Every second I spend in this wonderful wilderness makes me feel as though I’ve been living in the wrong skin my entire life – like a piece of my soul has been returned even though I never realized it was missing.

She knew better than to interrupt now. “Say something,” Ash finally said. “I don’t owe you anything.” His jaw tensed. “You’re right. You don’t. But I need to understand.” I folded my arms tightly, trying to hold myself together. “You want to understand? Fine. I race because they said I couldn’t. I race because my brother was thrown out like trash. I race because I was born in a pack that only sees me as an omega girl and not a person. I race to win. And to burn down the rules they use to cage us.”

Instantly, the mirrors devoured her, throwing back two versions: Promise the girl from Ajegunle, carrying hunger and smoke, and Promise the woman Lagos had glimpsed barefoot, unbroken. She chose both. Her stride lengthened. One, two, three. Pivot. She carried memory inside each step: fire licking ceilings, Daniel’s burnt hand, Mama’s voice insisting silence was survival, the boy saying his sister wanted to walk like her. Every step bore weight heavier than fabric. At midpoint she paused, inhaled deep enough to hurt, then exhaled in a measured stream. Assistants scribbled faster. She pivoted sharply. The heels bit, but her body flowed. No wobble. No fear.

***GREENVILLE*** All that could be heard were the sounds of heavy breathing, the rush of the wind and the orders from the chief guard as he yelled non stop. “Don't let her escape! Get her!” He yelled as more guards joined in the chase. Elsa kept running as fast as she could, and yet was as careful. She didn't want to trip and end up dropping the little infant which was safely cradled in her arms. Nothing else mattered to her now except this baby's life. If not for anyone else but for her queen. That's the least she could do since she couldn't protect her queen.

I thought of the world that was currently waking up to a silence it didn’t understand. But as I felt that tiny, second heartbeat pulse against my palm, I didn’t feel like a fugitive. I didn’t feel like a victim of a global conspiracy. I felt like an Architect. The first book was about the blood. It was about the betrayal and the breaking of the old world. It was about the trauma of the glass and the roar of the mountain. But the second book? The one we were starting right now, in this quiet French valley? That book was going to be about the Home.

Get up, get up, get up— I ran again. My lungs screamed. My thighs burned with a fire that felt like they were tearing apart from the inside. Every step was agony. Every breath was a knife between my ribs. Maybe I was over exerting my legs that just got the taste of new life, maybe this shock was enough to cripple them again… But I kept running. If I lived I would figure things out. Right now my only concern was survival. Because behind me, that growl had become something else… for the worse of course…The sound of a predator in pursuit of another apex predator.

Most whores didn't become a whore because they wanted to — Life made them one. We can't choose our destiny — it was already written. But the only thing we can do is edit, make amends, and shove a middle finger on the face of FATE! "FUCK LIFE, YOU WON!" THIS NOVEL IS WRITTEN BY ME — RF EWELE DAUGHTER OF A CHILD PREDATOR WHO WANTED TO PROVE TO LIFE THAT I DIDN'T CHOOSE MY DESTINY — BUT I CAN EDIT IT TO MY TASTE! Bye for now 💕

Why do I feel like I’ve held you a thousand times? She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing the air into her lungs. The "unwell" woman was screaming. She wanted to curl into a ball. She wanted to peel the skin off her waist. She wanted to tell the driver to keep driving, past the penthouse, past the city limits, all the way back to the ocean. Running felt like safety. Running felt like the only option. No. The voice in her head was not Elias’s. It was her own. It was the voice of the woman who had birthed a son on a floor in Paris while men trampled her drawings.

she said and stands up to sat beside me. "Well, putting aside his child like personality, he can be nice. Can" I said putting the very emphasis to the last word that I said. Justin smiled at me and dig in to her pasta and garlic bread. I open the book, The First Born, could be read on the first page of the book. Unlike the other books, materials and researches that I have that usually talk about everything about the Lycanthropes, this is the first time that I have encounter something about the first child from their race.

flashback memories of how much Tasha had been good to her since when she thrown out of her adopted parents home and slept on the Street , how she took her in to her parents home and even went ahead to donate a kidney to her when she was down with end-stage renal disease at the age of fourteen years old "Jesus Christ If I have sinned just forgive me don't torment me this way, bring Niyola and Franca back safely. she prayed as she slumped down on her knees in tears ***** "Aunty Franca look at your leg you're injured I can walk by myself" Niyola said when Franca ask her to climb on her back. maybe she would see one of the fishermen going to south Padre island. she stood there peeking out in sus