Novel & Cerita Breaking Through Book

K.I. Lynn is the USA Today Bestselling Author from The Bend Anthology and the Amazon Bestsellers, Breach and Becoming Mrs Lockwood. She spent her life in the arts, everything from music to painting and ceramics, then to writing. Characters have always run around in her head, acting out their stories, but it wasn’t until later in life she would put them to pen. It would turn out to be the one thing she was really passionate about.

she screamed. But he didn’t move. Didn’t panic. Didn’t try to fix it. He just stood there— Watching. Luke forced himself halfway through the thinning barrier. This time, it hurt. His form distorted, flickering between existence and rejection. “I’m coming through—!” he shouted. The world resisted him. But the cracks helped. And suddenly— He broke through. He hit the ground hard, reality snapping violently around his arrival. “LUKE!” Lily cried. He didn’t answer.

Some days, it was okay to forgive. Some days, it was just okay without meaning anything. And some days, you stand up and start again. My hands worked on the pad, my fingers pressed down the words to write the report waiting to be written. The clicking of the keys echoed in the small chamber. Some days, you get yourself back only after hitting the rock bottom. Some days, it was okay to be broken. It was just okay.

On the day my daughter is discharged from the hospital after recovering from the flu, I run into my ex-husband, Zachary Levine, whom I have been divorced from for seven years. He is there to pick up his wife, who has just given birth. He looks a little surprised as his gaze moves up and down to take in my clothes, which is still stained from my child's vomit. I had no time to change out of it earlier. "Long time no see. How have you been lately?" he asks. I smile and say I am doing fine. As we are about to part, he grabs my arm. "Alyssa, our son misses you a lot. If you are having any difficulties, don't push yourself. The passcode for the house in the north of the city is still your b

Regret crashed over me like relentless waves. As the years rolled on, it felt like relentless waves were pummeling me, each threatening to drown me. However, no other girl came to my rescue. No girl swam through the storm to pull me to safety. In the moments before I drifted away, my head throbbed with pain, and I could barely make out the sound of a sweet but frantic female voice. "Doctor, we'll pay whatever it takes. Just... Please wait. I'll sell this bracelet and be right back with the money for his treatment."

Healing was not linear. But tonight, something fundamental had shifted. Her walls had not shattered. They had opened. And as she turned off the lights and prepared for sleep, a quiet certainty settled inside her: This was not a reckless leap. It was a careful unfolding. And for the first time since everything had broken, she was no longer bracing for impact. She was leaning into possibility.

The phone slipped from her hands, clattering against the wooden floorboards with a muffled thud—coinciding with the collapse of the very last fortress of safety she had been clinging to. The walls of the apartment no longer felt like a sanctuary; in mere seconds, they had transformed into a cage suffocating her breath, and the stench of alcohol mingling with Kai's breath suddenly became unbearable. A burning lump choked her throat as she felt the walls caving in around her head, and a blind instinct to flee propelled her toward the front door.

Answers escaped me, slipping through my fingers like the snowflakes outside my room window. I forcefully snapped the book shut, and the loud clap echoed through my room, breaking the silence that had surrounded me and snapping me back to reality. Sorry, sweet room of secrets; you had given me comfort, but instead, you had pushed me into the heart of my storm. I needed air—fresh, clear air, and to get away from the suffocating remnants of my solitude.

They broke into a run as soon as they were tucked behind the next cell block, weaving from shelter to shelter, blood rushing in her ears and memories flaring back to life in her mind. Bony hands touched her chin. Meaty palms smacked her face. A stone hit the small of her back. Laughter rung out, clear and crisp against the hazy backdrop of the surreal. Gnarled fingers carded through her knotted hair, pulling hard whenever they met a tangle. Knives were held over fire, gleaming red as they were pressed to her skin – Coming back had been a mistake. She needed to get out of here.

It would be about belief. Who people trusted when things finally broke. Chapter Eighty Seven ended with that knowledge settling into me like a second spine. I had not sought this role. But I would not step away from it now. Not when the weight was finally revealing what it was meant to break.