Novel & Cerita Hold Your Breath Novel

My body, which had been warm, suddenly felt cold. I didn't want him to know I was here, so I held my breath so he wouldn't hear me. I even lifted my legs so he would think no one was here. Oh come on, Grayson, just leave. It’s better for you to be with Kelly out there than with me in a place like this. And I also want to breathe freely. I don’t want to die from holding my breath because of you. “Quinn?” Ah, that voice again. The voice that usually calls my name in various tones is now calling me in a flat tone. I mean, if he really doesn't want to talk to me, don't force yourself.

It feels borrowed, given. My breathing slows. The pounding in my chest softens. I don’t understand it. Is it my imagination? A trick of survival? Or is it… them? Aria hums in my head, not giving answers. Does it matter? Use it. Anchor yourself in it. Whatever reaches for you, let it hold you. I let the calm seep deeper. My body still trembles, but not from fear anymore—from the effort of holding the line. I press my hand flat against the bed, as if the wood can root me to the earth, as if the earth can carry me back to them.

I say. "It is—" She pauses. "It is trying not to surge. It knows something is happening and it is holding itself back. The way a person holds their breath when someone is about to find them." I think about that image — a city's buried anchor point, holding its breath. Holding it for decades. The thought arrives in my chest as something I have no word for. Not grief exactly. Not anger. Something wider than both. *Not long,* I tell it. *Almost.*

Why should I not take it? When I tried to leave, they snapped out of their shock and tried to stop me, but I had already broken free of everyone’s grasp and arrived at the door. “Alania, what’re you doing? This is just a misunderstanding between you and your husband. You can resolve it by talking. Besides, you’re pregnant. Sit down.” Joy ran over to me and grabbed my arm to stop me. With a fake smile, she pushed me back down into my seat.

I can feel the tension building between us, and every nerve in my body is on edge. And then, just like that, he walks away. I realise that I've been holding my breath, and it comes out in ragged gasps as if I'm breathing through shattered ribs. I pause to compose myself, my heart racing with anticipation and desire, and try to steady my breathing before continuing with my shower.

He pressed his face into the side of my neck as I moved back as far as I could, needing a good run up to make the jump this time. “Hold your breath,” I whispered. His arms tightened on my neck to the point of strangulation as I pushed away from the wall and ran, jumping into the flames. I held my breath, praying that it was enough, praying that DJ was holding on as tightly as he could, praying that we’d make it.

JORDAN The door creaks open. Voices spill into the bathroom—louder, closer. My entire body jerks. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t move. And I—I can’t breathe. My heart slams against my ribs as the men enter, laughing, dragging the reek of cigarette smoke and sweat with them. I press myself tighter against Alaric’s chest, trying to disappear. I expect him to push me away, maybe toss some smug comment at me, or reveal me just to watch me squirm. But he doesn’t.

And then they’re gone. Swallowed by the pitch-black night outside. The door clicks shut behind them. And only then— Only then— Do I realize I’ve been holding my breath. I exhale slowly, my hands still tingling, my skin still burning where he stood too close. And for the first time since he walked in.. I can breathe again.

“You already are. You just don’t see it yet.” She stared at him through tear-blurred vision. “How?” she whispered. His thumb brushed a tear from her lips. “Because if you wanted the breach…” His voice steadied, painfully soft. “You wouldn’t still be holding onto my hand.” Aria looked down. Her hand—white-knuckled, shaking—was wrapped around his. Holding on. Refusing to let go. The breach pulsed one last time, a crack splitting through the chamber floor. And the voice came again—

“What are you doing? We just called you out a bit, and now, you’re trying to post on Instagram to get people to attack us?” Charlotte Whitmore’s friends snatched my phone away. When they could not unlock it, they threw it to the ground. Ethan Cross stepped over the shattered phone. His face was dark, and he looked at me with a cold glare. The pain made my vision go black. I cradled my chest and forced myself to kneel in front of Ethan.