Fahrenheit 451 Beatty Novels & Stories

he coldly responds. “And the bodies?….. What if Alpha Kryptos finds out,” my body is still stiff in its position as my moving lips ask the questions. “Worry less. Kryptos will never find out how they died, and he won’t believe you even if you say a word,” Beckett maliciously chuckles. Just like the other three, Beckett is also a psychopath. A mighty spit gulps down my throat as I struggle within for seconds, before finally putting myself together. I throw the dress on my wet body. “How certain is my freedom?”

(Jared) “You ungrateful Man!…you asked me about it and I tell you about it!!…Cheh!..What I mean about these, is that…it wasn’t anything dangerous!…no harm will come to New City or Aeternum..you dimwit!..you’re just annoying me in the morning as beautiful as today…shut up, open the radio now…and also give me a kilo of that Beet!…Humph!..”. (Madame Betty)

When he saw her, his eyes blazed with a mixture of amazement and confusion. ‘Either I’m in Hell or we have both embarked on a most fortuitous day, Miss Beecham.’ ‘Just get out of the casket,’ Beatrice said coldly as bigger waves coursed though the chamber. ‘From here you’re on your own.’ Pontefract nodded his understanding and climbed from his metal prison.

His words were tight and laced with a strained wrath. "Yes," I whispered. Beau's eyes met mine, "I'm glad he's in a wheelchair now, but he should be at the bottom of the swamp." his gaze promised an animalistic violence I wasn't sure the Beta was capable of till now.

The exit seemed to recede as darkness encroached at the edges of her sight. Then, the door burst open just as her knees buckled. A towering figure silhouetted in the doorway as her consciousness slipped away… … Outside the auditorium, Harvey paced like a caged animal, his eyes burning holes into the firefighters battling the blaze. His subordinates clustered around Beau—some forcing water into him, others fanning him frantically. Each time Beau took a sip, Ralph would immediately offer oxygen, asking anxiously, "Mr. Beau, are you feeling better now?"

Taking a deep breath is even more impossible and I struggle for sips of air. After a second or two, the pain eases up and I'm able to pull up my heavy head. I watch as Atticus approaches, prowling toward me like a big, ghostly cat. I struggle to get to my feet, but stumble back, hitting my head hard against the wall. I feel warm blood roll down my neck. I'm beaten and he knows it. CHAPTER 52 ** Brad ** Man to Man "You had a chance to leave, yet you chose to stay," Atticus says, looking genuinely curious. "Do you love her?"

Jackson said sarcastically. "Stupid!" "Hey!" Jackson was angry. "You just said I was stupid!" "You're a fool, Jacks." Dimitry rolled his eyes. "I'm not stupid!" “Then you don't really know Beverly. Beverly is a different woman than most. If he wanted, he could just steal your cell phone and complain to his brother that you kidnapped him. If he wanted, he could just blow your head off with a grenade. Or bombard your heart with an AK-47. Why did he have to complain to his family? Did you know that Beverly has been testing all the weapons that come from her sister's company? "

But he didn’t even know about me… I’m so freaking confused and stuck in my own head. That is it, it has been confirmed, I am losing my damn mind, I can’t stop thinking about Beckett King. The hot firefighter, the sweetest guy I’ve ever come into contact with, I’ve never met another guy who is as sweet and as caring as he is. sometimes it feels so unreal how can anyone be like that.

She would have to admit that she copied Beckett’s work. Jackson could see just how panicked she was from her shudders and helped her buckle up. “Calm down, Tiffany, let me pinpoint Beckett’s exact location first; Tanya’s gotta be with him,” he said in an attempt to comfort her. “According to what I know, Beckett Hushman’s a meticulous, calculating man, but he isn’t very ballsy. He doesn’t strike me as an extremist, so I’m guessing he just wants to rescue his name from a burning pile of sh*t instead of actually murdering someone.”

he shrugs not even glancing my way. “Give me something new, sunshine.” I don’t have time to think of another fitting insult because the door opens and In walks a man who can only be described as a hobbit with a beard—long, grey, and constantly itching his chin. “This is detention,” he barks, arms crossed. “Misbehave, and you’re here for a week.” Strict. Irrational. Yep, Yara was right. This has to be Mr. Benson. He scowls at Grayson and me. “Miss Blackwell—”