Heartbeats Knife Novels & Stories

he whispers low enough so only us three can hear him and my heart beats hard while butterflies battle in my stomach as I convince myself that he could be including himself in that statement even if this isn't the moment to be thinking about this. I pull my head out of the clouds and back to a screaming Jay, I swallow down the rising bile in my throat and bite back my fear as I very slowly slide the knife just Left of his heart. His screaming soon dies down as his life is slowly draining out of him, his death will be slow and painful and nothing less than he deserves.

My hands were trembling and it caused the knife to tear a small part of my t-shirt between my breasts. The tip of the knife was now directly touching my exposed skin. It caused my skin to bleed and a drop of blood trickled down. The knife was right over my heart and one stab and I would be dead. I didn't have it in me to pierce the knife right through my heart, so I brought the knife over my stomach. I deserved this.

His eyes blazed crimson as his hand locked around my throat. "I don't live in her head. How would I know?" My voice rasped under the chokehold as the suffocating pressure built. "Don't know?" His face twisted in fury. "She's kind and never makes enemies. The last person she saw was you. Who else but you would do something to her, you vile bitch?" The next moment, his palm cracked across my face. A loud slap rang in my ears, leaving my cheek swollen and burning. "Still want to talk tough?" Victor had lost all reason. He yanked my hair and smashed my forehead against the cold, hard floor. Pain exploded, and hot blood poured down into my eyes, dyeing the world in crimson blur.

And it has struggled so close to Zilla that he opened his mouth. Just to chop off Zilla's head but Zilla quickly inserts his hand into his pocket and brings out a little pistol. And just a shot on the head of the bear, it fell down immediately. And that's just to prove that Zilla's gun is extraordinarily made differently for him. Just like the psyraid daggers were made for the Men on Black. Besides, the psyraid dagger is far more superior to Zilla's pistol. Moreover immediately Zilla shot the bear down, and all the soldiers got back to their feet.

It was a silver knife that had a curved blade with special patterns carved on it. Upon seeing the blade, Nabeel felt like he was struck by lightning. His eyes widened at the sight of the familiar knife! That was the knife that had stabbed through Marcus’s father’s heart! A tingling feeling gave Nabeel a rush within his wolf, urging him to surge to that she-wolf, taking her down, asking her about the knife. She could not be the one who attacked Marcus’s father, but since the knife was in her hand, she definitely knew who the murderer was.

his words still hitting like I was being punched on my heart. " There's something I'd like to show you," We got on our feet and we walked through turns and corners with our hands interlocked, eventually, we got to this room which I supposed belonged to him. Jones let go of my hand and walked a distance and from behind a tall closet, he brought out something and returned to me. It was a picture that contained the human heart, a knife embedded into it causing it to break apart while smoke seemed to come out of it, part of the heart was painted black while the other was somehow brownish.

I raised my hand and distanced myself away from their judging eyes. Eight and Four also moved to a corner, exchanging murmurs. In my spot, I could see Eight handing Four my knife. Then Four gave me a measuring look before taking his eyes back on the knife in his hands. I knew he was balancing between facts and his gut feels. But I also knew my alibi was rock solid. The butterfly knife that I had will never let me down. It has the word ‘hunter’ intricately drawn on its blade. And besides, he couldn’t kill me now that we already have a sacrificial lamb. The favor was still on me.

It feels like death, just the same as bereavement and in quiet moments, it chokes my breath. Only Marvis whom I loved so much could be my assassin. It takes an inside job to attack one so resilient to emotional injury. That is my heartbreak. My heart has been shattered to millions of pieces that I don't even know how to pick and gather them so I can mend it.

My legs told me to run, but I stayed rooted, caught between fear and fascination. The bike slowed, then stopped just a few feet away. The rider pulled off his helmet, shaking out dark hair. Broad shoulders, leather jacket, jeans torn at the knee. A scar slashed across his jawline, making him look even harder, sharper. “Road’s no place for a girl alone this late,” he said, voice rough like gravel. My pulse jumped. “I’m fine,” I blurted, though the crack in my voice betrayed me. He studied me, eyes sharp and unflinching. “Name’s Blake. You lost?”

“Maybe then… you’d think twice before walking away again.” The blade drifts lower, teasing over my stomach, lower still, until it’s pressed between my legs, the flat edge rubbing against the seam of my jeans. The pressure is maddening. My clit throbs, slick heat building until I can feel myself soaking through the denim, right against the cold steel. “How would you like that?” A broken moan slips out. “Mmh. Yes. I’d like that very much.” He trails the knife back up, stopping right above my heart. “Right here. On your heart.”