Can't Break Me Novels & Stories

Zoe might've survived it all. If it hadn't come from the one person she trusted most. She'd given Connor everything. And that's how he repaid her. She'd nearly shattered. Hid herself away. Even a phone ringing would leave her shaking. Now, she stared at the screen, frozen. Fingers clenched tight around her phone, knuckles white. Eyes blank. The hate kept rolling in. [Holy crap, this is wild. That's the Herbert heiress?] [Did her family go broke? Is she selling herself now? I'd take a turn—bet she'd love it.]

I bit down hard on my lip and refused to let a single tear fall. Crying would only make them laugh harder. "Begin." Marco's voice held no emotion at all. A bodyguard lifted a soaked bullwhip, letting it slice through the air before it landed with a heavy crack against my back. Pain shot through me like molten fire, making me grunt involuntarily as my body shook violently. Blow after blow landed with ruthless precision. My back quickly turned into a bloody mess. I could hear the crowd whispering, jeering, and lamenting—all of it stabbing at my heart like a thousand needles.

“More than that. I think he might try to act smart about it. I need to remind him that I'm serious about fucking him up if he tries to do anything stupid.” “Yeah, we can reach him tonight. I'll send his number to you as soon as we are done here. But now, I need you to chill the fuck out. You broke a man's nose today, you might break a leg tomorrow. You just keep breaking things.” I smirked. “It makes the job fun. Imagine threatening someone without having to leave a mark, that's boring. When you break a bone, they get the message and understand that you mean serious business.”

"No guy in his right mind would ever want someone like you as a girlfriend." My hands balled into tight fists, anger flaring up in my chest. "You really think I care about your opinion?" "Believe whatever you want." She stepped back toward the mirror, glancing at me with that same irritating smile. "Any guy would be lucky to have me. I'm pretty, wealthy, smart—" "And yet you can't follow a single simple rule," she cut me off coldly. "Who would ever want a reckless rule-breaker?" I bit my lip hard. "You're a rule-breaker too. In fact, you're a hundred times worse than I'll ever be," I spat back. I took a step toward her, matching her distance. "You're all talk."

I remember fighting him, remember the taste of something bitter at the back of my throat, remember heat spreading through my body while his voice kept saying my name as if that made any of it mercy. By the time the room went dark, I understood only one thing clearly: he would rather break me than lose control of me. When I woke the next morning, the room was gray with early light. My clothes were scattered across the floor. My mouth tasted metallic. My body hurt in ways I did not want to name. There was a ring on my left hand. A diamond, cold and flawless, catching the first light like a threat. I pulled it off and threw it into the wastebasket.

The restraints on my wrist caused my back to be slammed onto the the metal pole behind me. "Fuck." I muttered as I slowly got back up. I wasn't going to give up. I heard two more gun shots and I started to get anxiety. My hands starting shaking and I couldn't even hold on to the heavy shackles because of how rapidly my hands were shaking. I took a deep breath and tried to calm my breathing. "He's not going to die, I'm not going to let that happen." I convinced myself. I squeezed my eyes shut and let a tear fall.

“Now spill.” My hand flew to the bridge of my nose, pinching hard enough to leave a mark. Maybe if I focused on the pain, I could ignore her. “We didn’t break up,” I growled. “There was nothing to break up. It was... transactional.” Victoria’s grin widened. “Oh, transactional. Sounds fancy. What were you, His sugar baby?” I glared at her so hard I thought she might burst into flames. “It’s none of your business.”

I should’ve braced harder. But I didn’t. My hands opened the paper. And then the world stopped. "That’s..." My breath vanished. My voice cracked. My entire chest caved in. "Shit!" Renato cursed, banging his fist on the steering wheel. My vision blurred. My hands were shaking, fingers crumpling the photo I couldn't look away from. My sister's and Curtis' face stared back at me—wide-eyed, innocent, a familiar tilt to her smile. “Please don’t fall apart,” Renato said. But it was too late, I was already breaking inside.

I composed myself and called my mom to come get me. Zachary saw I wasn't feeling well and wanted to stay with me, but I refused. "Ella, what's wrong?" He must have sensed something was off. His voice trembled slightly as he spoke. I ignored him, hastily packed a few clothes, and left. Only when I got back to my mom's place did I allow myself to break down completely. "That jerk Zachary," my mom said in disbelief, fighting back tears while comforting me over and over.

For the first time in a while, I breathe, really breathe, and it hits me. Maybe I can’t outrun what’s broken. But I can damn well start moving again.