Hreat Novels & Stories

Noah Clayton My biggest fear in life is to experience heart attack and die young that's why I have a really healthy lifestyle and make sure to exercise everyday. I know that I could take care of myself most of the time but the woman who's sitting in front of me not. She's beautiful and no one could deny that statement. She's attractive and yes, she has her ways how to make people look at her. She's smart and I'm sure she is because she's running a big company. But she's careless and she needs a lot of attention. She's handful and that's the last thing I want from a woman.

"Because if you scratch a single inch of his car, I will have Rohan physically rip your mother's ventilator tube out of her throat with his bare hands." The absolute, terrifying finality of her threat instantly injected a lethal, unnatural dose of pure adrenaline directly into his failing heart. Aryan violently gasped, his entire shivering body aggressively jerking on the expensive Persian rug. He couldn't die. He couldn't pass out. He had to drive.

Color starts creeping back into his face. The doctor checks his blood pressure next, frowning at the reading. "One-forty over ninety. Too high." He shines the light in Hayden's eyes again. "Pupils equal and reactive. Good." He listens to Hayden's chest longer this time, his stethoscope moving in careful patterns. "Any history of heart issues?" Dr. Grant asks me, since Hayden's too winded to speak. "Broken heart syndrome," I say quickly. "He was diagnosed recently. Stress-induced. He's on meds for it."

The specter of violence looms large, casting a shadow over the already tumultuous family dynamics and leaving us all reeling from the gravity of the threat. “Carlos! Behave your fucking self!” The tension in the room reaches a breaking point as my father's outburst is met with a sudden and alarming physical reaction. His loud voice is soon drowned out by coughing, his breath becoming shallow and labored. Panic grips the room as my brother rushes to his side, recognizing the signs of distress. "He is having a heart attack!" Phil's declaration sends a wave of fear and urgency through the room, the seriousness of the situation hitting us all like a ton of bricks.

Her voice broke, and a single tear rolled down her cheek. The steady, sleeping rhythm of the monitor suddenly lurched—beep, beep, beep—faster and erratic, each pulse slamming against the walls of the room like a drumbeat of panic. Charlotte’s head snapped toward the screen, her heart lurching in her chest as the numbers flashed red, unstable, climbing too high, too fast. Her hand tightened around Howard’s arm, fingers digging into the fabric of his sleeve. “Howard,” she whispered, her voice trembling, her gaze flicking from the monitor to his face. “He’s—his heart, it’s—”

My heart pounded faster than ever as fear snaked around and tightened around my neck, making it seem almost impossible for me to breathe. His eyes burnt with death.

The rush of blood sears my veins. My throat tightens under the suffocating weight of anxiety, and I summon every ounce of willpower to steady my breathing even as a fierce ache threatens to consume me whole. My heart pounds frantically, a relentless drumbeat of fear that makes me question if this agony is destined to haunt me forevermore. The cruel ministrations of Saint have pushed me to the brink of what I can bear, stretching the very limits of my endurance.

He cried out as he stumbled forward, his heart pounding in his chest, praying that somehow they had survived the brutal attack. His steps were heavy, every movement weighted by grief and dread and with each passing moment, his hope waned, replaced by a gnawing fear that tightened its grip around his heart. His heart pounded in his chest as he frantically searched the wreckage, his eyes scanning every broken form, every lifeless body. With each step, his dread intensified, knowing deep down that he might find the ones he loved most lying among the fallen.

Havermouth, Present Time Heath could not sleep. At first, his concern for Rhett had kept him awake, listening to his dark-haired mate’s every breath and every movement, alert for anything that might indicate trouble. Worried was an understatement. He was nauseated with fear. Rhett’s face was taking on the shadows of the corpses at the hospital – his skin sinking to his bones in a truly terrifying way, as if he were being consumed from the inside out.

I tried saying but her interrupted. "You want to know what I want.... I want you natty... I fucking love you... I love you natty...do you know what you do to me... I can't stay a second without thinking about you...my heart aches when you are not around... Do you know when I last i felt this... do you???..Do you know what you unhappiness does to me...it kills me... I just want you to be happy. If you think I want your body...the answer is no... I want all of you Natty..all of you."with that he went out of the house. I saw tears in his eyes. oh god how I can be so stupid,he just confessed his feelings for me. Oh no