Hearts Alive Novels & Stories

Although the other car was not severely damaged, the driver died on the spot. Onlookers gathered around, but no one dared to approach Sheila's car, even though she was pleading for help from inside. Suddenly, a commanding voice ordered his guards to rescue her from the wreckage. It was none other than the number one wealthy businessman, Alexander Westwood. As the guards finally rescued Sheila and the taxi driver, they were swiftly transported to the nearest hospital in a convoy of luxurious cars. Upon arrival, Sheila was rushed to the emergency section, but the doctor delivered the heartbreaking news that the driver had passed away, and Sheila was in a coma.

Alive. Waiting. For the final reckoning.

Afterward, wrapped in each other, we lay tangled beneath the sheets, heartbeats syncing in the quiet. “I’ve never felt this alive,” I murmured. He pulled me tighter. “You make me feel human.” I fell asleep in his arms, the taste of him still on my lips and the memory of this perfect day branded into my soul...

Chapter Thirty The room is sterilized, bathed in cold fluorescent light that is not even remotely comforting. I sit on the uncomfortable chair beside Simeon's bed; my heart still races from all the things that had taken place. My eyes stick to his small, pale face, so still beneath the white sheets. The beeping of the heart monitor keeps me attached to the fact that he is alive, that he's still breathing.

"Anyways, | owed them a lot of money and | kept telling them that | would get it back to them, but soon enough they were going to find out that | didn't have their money and they were gonna kill me." "So when my parents got divorced, | knew that this was my chance to escape and get away from them. Yeah, | was sad that my parents split, but also thankful that the Silents wouldn't go after me anymore." "Now this fight? Those reporters have my pictures and for all | know they could post them anywhere. And if the Silents find out where | am, I'm dead. | can't afford that kind of risk. That's why | try to keep a low profile. That's why | can't fight for the championships."

They only attended when it's an emergency and on life-threatening situations. She tapped her brother's shoulder and caressed his back to console him. “What is the celebration about?” “The release of the approved Independence Day.” he replied in a soft voice. Just like her, Wave had a hard time accepting the new system and the truth about their country. “They are already adjusting now, huh? Why don't we investigate about the Late Queen?” she said, the bitterness in her voice dripping like honey. “You know we can't do that, Alaia. We might endanger our family, the throne, and our people.” Wave took her hand and intertwined it with his hand.

The noise was overwhelming, a fierce, living presence that filled the air with life and the bright, vivid thrill of risk and danger. The team fought with desperate, living energy, their hearts a wild, uncontained thing, a pulse, a drumbeat, a living force that filled the air with life and the thrill of the fight. Amelia used the Heart, its power a bright, wild presence that filled the space with life and energy and the thin, cutting line between victory and defeat.

But I didn’t get to take a look of her face because she attacked me with an embrace, a tight one that made me think if I am in heaven, for which I did not believe. But now, having her wrapped around my arms with my warm embrace, I just feel like doing something good as I live, so I could be worth for her. I am not sure what does this meant for her, but as she tightened her arms around me, I finally felt what it feels like of being alive. Of finding a safe place to finally found solace I never knew I longed for.

"What we need. Specifically. Particularly. Non-replicably." Cyrus held them, the terror that was subsiding, the presence that was replacing it, the love that was not conditional on survival but was absolutely, desperately, specifically invested in it. He felt Arthie's heart rate through the racing suit, the residual elevation that was normal, appropriate, the rhythm that was regular, the life that was continuing. "Your rate," he murmured, the doctor that was always present. "At Eau Rouge. One-sixty-five. Above threshold."

“Listen Jared, I know you're upset about Rory. I understand what you're going through—" “Really Tate? You understand my pain? So you've had a mate and then had her walk out of your life taking half of your heart with her?" I asked, cutting him off. “No but you're my alpha. Jared the entire pack can feel your pain right now and we hurt with you and I promise you, I wouldn't be here if I didn't think it was important alpha," Tate said calmly. I sighed. “Fine, what is it?" “Some scouts have detected the presence of foreign wolves in our territory."