Holding Back Novels & Stories

Holding. With the specific quality of something that has been holding on the reduced capacity of an incomplete anchor system for two years. Not the held-in silence of Lorne. Worse. The specific quality of something that has been trying to distribute load across three anchor points that should be five, that has been compensating for a primary anchor suppression by running the remaining points harder than they were designed to run. The city is not in crisis. Not yet. But it is at the edge of the kind of crisis that arrives slowly and then all at once.

he rose his eyebrows. "Why are you holding my hand?" I hissed. He grinned, "Because I meant what I said before. I want you and I get what I want" He started walking then, gently tugging me with him. "What about what I want?" I snarled. "We both know that you want me too. Stop lying to yourself." He whispered as he opened the door and finally let go of me. I sighed with relief only to frown when I felt his hand on the small of my back, directing me to the booth full of our friends. They were all staring at us, some smiling, some frowning and some looking confused. I rolled my eyes and shook my head.

“Did you hear that? Just kneel! It won’t kill you! This is what will save our whole family’s lives. You better do it!” I yanked my hands free and stood on my own. Back at home, I locked my door. No matter how much they shouted or kicked at the door outside, I ignored them. “Henry! You ungrateful brat! We raised you all these years. What’s so wrong with kneeling just once?!” “Open the door, or we’ll drop dead right outside for you to see!” I put on my headphones, blocking out all their vicious curses. … Three days later.

“If I weren’t sure of this, we wouldn't be in this situation. I would have pushed you away, but I didn’t…” For a moment, I couldn’t understand him. Before, he was the one who kept pushing himself onto me, even though I said that this couldn’t happen. But now, he’s pulling away before I could even start. My other hand went onto his nape, leaning him closer to me. “You’re not hesitating now, aren’t you?” His eyes widened in surprise. Then, he shook his head as he stared at me, communicating using his gaze. “Holding back is the right term for it, Princess,” River finally answered after a few seconds. “I just don’t want you to regret it in the morning. That’s why

“Then prove it.” She hesitated just for a second. Then she moved faster than before which was stronger and sharper. I barely blocked in time. That made me smile. “There you are,” I muttered. “What?” “That’s what I’ve been waiting for.” She stepped back slightly. “What are you talking about?” “You.” “I’ve been here the whole time.” “No,” I said. “You’ve been holding back.” “I haven’t..” “Yes, you have.” She looked frustrated now. “I don’t even know how to hold back!”

Nothing about reacting has helped so far. “It’s not pulling me,” I say again, quieter now. “It’s not forcing anything. It’s just… waiting for me to decide.” “Yes.” “And that makes it harder.” “Yes.” Silence. Then— “…stay.” The word slips at the edge of my thoughts. Not spoken. Not formed. Just— There. I freeze. “What?” Vaelor asks immediately. “It’s back,” I whisper. “The word?” “Yes.” “Did you say it?” “No.”

He understood that her pauses were not hesitation — they were calibration. “He’s consolidating internally,” Caden said from the far end of the table. “We’re seeing fewer external feelers. More closed-door coordination.” “Retrenchment,” Leo murmured. “No,” Liana said softly, eyes still on the projection. “Containment.” Cassian’s image flickered to life on one of the screens. “What’s the distinction?” She turned slightly, folding her arms loosely across her chest as she considered her words carefully. “Retrenchment implies retreat. Containment implies preparing for release.”

The robber’s finger hovers a fraction before pressure. The milk carton drifts at the edge of Nora’s hand. Holding a moment still is not effort. It is function. Holding it while resisting instinct is something else entirely. The lattice tightens faintly around the suspension. A subtle resistance. Not punishment. Not yet. But awareness.

That alone told Aiden something had shifted. Julian wasn’t panicking. He was recalibrating. Aiden sat on the floor, back against a support beam, eyes closed as he traced the bond inward. It felt heavier now—stretched not by distance, but by restraint. Dante watched him. “You’re holding back,” he said quietly. “I have to,” Aiden replied. “If I don’t, the silence becomes meaningless.” The bond hummed—agreement edged with strain. “You can’t hold it forever,” Dante warned.