Breathless The Book Mga Nobela at Kwento

I have difficulty breathing again, feeling like someone is pressing down and refusing to let go of my lungs. Someone lifts me up in the bed, gets in with me and places me down on their lap. By the scent I am inhaling, it's Blake. He cradles me against his chest, making me listen to his own calm heart. He just sits there with me until my breathing evens out. The door opens and closes without me noticing who is coming in or going out. “Are you okay, princess?” Blake asks into my hair. I shake my head. “How do you know him?” I ask, my voice shaking with absolute horror. Blake rocks me back and forth, making the sparks even more immediate than before.

Her in the library, dropping books from the top shelf as she refused to grab the ladder. Instead, the quiet of the pack house seems to suffocate me. I can feel the air in my throat get stuck, somewhere near my adams apple. I grab onto the wall near the living room, leaning against it as I struggle to catch my next breath. The world spins around me and I gasp and gasp again, trying to get hold of a breath that never seems to come.

Something that made my breath catch for a different reason. I closed my eyes for a second, trying to push it down. I felt him shift slightly, just enough that his face was closer now, his breath brushing faintly against my temple. “Breathe,” he murmured. I tried. I really did. But it came out uneven. The footsteps outside shifted again. My grip tightened on his shirt without thinking. My body tensed completely. Seconds stretched. And then—the sound of footsteps moving away. My lungs burned as I finally let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. But I didn’t move. None of us did, because we couldn’t be sure.

Not trembling like mine. For a fraction of a second, I hesitate. This is the point of no return. Then I place my hand in his. His fingers close around mine. Warm. Firm. Grounding. The contact sends a strange calm through me. He leans slightly closer. From the outside, it probably looks romantic. Intimate. Perfect. But only I hear the quiet murmur meant just for me. “Breathe.” Two syllables. Low. Controlled. My lungs finally obey. I hadn’t realised I’d been holding my breath.

My breath came shallow and sharp, each inhale scraping. “Easy.” Kaden’s voice. Right there. Close. His hand was already on my back, solid and grounding, fingers splayed like he was anchoring me to the present by force. “You do not get points for bravery,” he added quietly. “I was not trying to be brave,” I muttered. “I was trying not to drown in my own ribs.” Kael snorted from somewhere nearby. “That checks out.” I forced my breathing to slow. In. Out. The hum settled with it, coiling tighter, denser. Waiting.

Then my arms – the numbness climbing like cold water rising, erasing sensation inch by inch until I couldn't feel the note cards I was holding and heard them hit the floor before I realized I'd dropped them. My chest. Someone was standing on my chest. Not pressing – standing. Full weight. Both feet. The pressure so complete that my lungs forgot how to expand and each breath became a negotiation – half an inhale, a quarter exhale, not enough, never enough, the oxygen entering my body and evaporating before it reached my blood. Breathe. Just breathe. You know how to breathe. You've been breathing for nineteen years. I couldn't.

Panic surged through me, but I kept reading, my hands trembling over the pages. Another cough. More blood. My heart pounded. Then—silence. The book slipped from my grasp. His hand, which had been resting on my knee, went limp. “Zarek?” My voice cracked. No response. My chest tightened as I shook him. “Zarek, wake up.” Still nothing. “No, no, no,” I whispered, shaking him harder. His body was warm, but he wasn’t moving. His chest wasn’t rising. He wasn’t breathing.

My breath became shallow. What the fuck?

CHAPTER 66: Can't Breathe Pyra’s POV I panicked. Why wouldn’t I? Two lines. I couldn't breathe. My breathing hitched in my throat. “No, no. This couldn’t be…” I gasped, shaking my head and body as if the sheer denial I emitted could alter this reality. “I-I can’t be. No!” Two lines. Two. I backed away from the sink, my back hitting the door as my legs trembled beneath me. What would this mean for me?