Broken Soul Tattoo Novels & Stories

The broken wings were so heartbreaking that I could feel a crack in my own chest. But I stopped when I noticed something beside the tattoo, closer to the wings of the fallen angel. I squinted my eyes, leaning closer because it was so small. It was a little boy… with a smiling face. His hands were by the angel’s wings, but there was a knife in them. The little boy was tearing the angel’s wings, and the angel’s head was bowed toward the floor, taking all the pain the little boy was giving to it… I don’t know what the tattoo meant, but I could feel the emotion—the heartbreak—it carried.

An eerie silence descended upon the air. Fenrir's heart suddenly felt hollow, as if a piece of his soul had been violently ripped away. The next second, an agonizing, soul-tearing pain exploded from the depths of his being! The wolf tattoo on his arm, the symbol of our mate bond, shattered in an instant, turning to black ash. The once-shimmering silver crescent mark vanished completely. The agony of the severed mate bond struck him like lightning, a sharp blade piercing his chest, a pain beyond endurance.

I shake my head at him and look away. He's sitting with his knees pulled up and his arms draped lazily over them, giving me a view of his arm and hand tattoos. He has 'love' and 'pain' tattooed across his knuckles; on his right hand, he has a rose, and on the left, he has a skull. My eyes follow up his arms looking at the artwork on them for a second before I rip them away and return my glare to him.

The once beautiful canvas of his phoenix tattoo is now topped with another set of prints that aren’t part of the art I admired. With blurry eyes, I tumbled out of bed and kneeled between his legs. There, a heartbreaking sight of bullet and knife scars met my gaze. On his right chest, the Outlaws’ insignia was marked with an X. I’m sure a knife did it from the smooth edge of the scar. And on his left side were two bullet wounds, barely missing his liver. But below his left breast, the words ‘corazón para la muñeca’ were written in cursive writing. [heart for the doll]

The days she…. “Dude, dude,” Brian’s voice drags him back to reality. “Dude, you are drifting off again!” He rubs his face with his palm and sighs dejectedly. “Sorry, man,” he apologizes. “Malcolm, I know you don’t like hearing this but I’m your best friend and I have to tell you the truth. Dude, you’ve got to move on. Yvette is gone and she is never coming back.” “I’ve moved on,” Malcolm says to him.

☠️ CHAPTER THIRTEEN ☠️ Holden snapped his eyes open, jerking up on the bed. He was panting and sweats covered his forehead. He let out a loud groan as he felt pain all over his body. His left hand was wrapped with a bandage and there was a plaster on his forehead. He was bare with no shirt on. One could see the cuts and inked tattoo all over his body. Jimmy smiled at him on seeing him wake. Looking around and realizing he was in a hospital, Holden frowned his brows in confusion.

“I was really drunk, I couldn’t see her and I thought the differences in the feelings the lack of tingles was because of the bond beginning to snap. I am a complete idiot.” “We agree there.” Chris states. I can’t even be mad at his insult. “It is possible that because the marking was not fully completed and was done unwittingly that the mark may fade in about a month's time.” hope feels my heart and Elder Rose’s words. “But we don’t know how this will affect Ireland, her bond could be severed during that time or could be forever severed. We just won’t know.” And just like that my hope is ripped away from me. Isabelle POV-

It is the quiet of a man who has finally stopped holding himself together. Serafina crosses the room. She does not rush. She walks the way she walked through the archive wing on her first day here, each step deliberate, each movement carrying the weight of someone who has learned that hurry is a luxury she cannot afford. She stops in front of me and she reaches down and takes my left hand, the hand that broke the chair, and she turns it over and looks at the palm. There is a splinter in the meat of my thumb. I did not feel it go in. She pulls it out with her fingernails, small and precise, and she drops it on the floor beside the broken chair leg, and then she lifts my hand and presses it ag

I closed my eyes, and the memories of two lifetimes flashed before me like a movie: The betrayal of the first life, the despair, the lonely death. The pain of the second life, the heartbreak, the final, clean break. And the final sacrifice, the final redemption, the final goodbye. "Can the pain of two lifetimes really be healed so easily?" The moonpetal swayed gently in the night breeze, as if answering my question. Perhaps not. Perhaps some wounds never truly heal. But at least... he had paid the price for his mistakes in his own way. I opened my hand, looking at the signet ring one last time. Then I gently placed it in the soil at the base of the moonpetal.

I hold the picture up for her to see, “and here is you kissing him. You can't see his face clearly for the obvious reason that his face is buried on yours but you can see his tattoo, clearly identifying him.” I was ready to give her the world, I put her first in everything and that still wasn't enough for her. “I'm an idiot,” I murmured, staring into her eyes one more time feeling more broken than ever. “I never want to see you again. Get out of my house” I say quietly. “Adam, I don't know who's behind this or what they stand to gain from it but I need you to remember the promise you made to me. I need you to trust me and know that I'm telling the truth.” She walks a step closer, “I didn't d