Iron Hands Chapter Novels & Stories

Chapter 7 Ivy’s POV I stared at my trembling hands. I touched it. The chains. “I did it!” I breathed out, my voice shaky with relief. A rush of excitement surged through me like a wild current. “Alright, now let’s end this!” I stepped closer to him, heart pounding against my ribs. He stood completely still, like a statue carved from shadow and rage. I couldn’t read his expression…his face hidden behind that damn mask. But his body didn’t move, not even a twitch. Was he stunned? Relieved? Afraid? I had no idea. And yet, part of me wanted to know… needed to know. But I shook that thought off.

Every part of me knew I should move, but my body didn’t listen. I managed to step back. He stepped forward, closing the distance effortlessly—like I was already his. “And curious little girls…” his voice dropped, rough and deliberate, brushing against my skin like a warning, “…don’t tend to live long.” I turned— Too late. His hand closed around my throat. Iron. Unbreakable. A sharp gasp tore from my lips as the ground vanished beneath me.

Chapter 3 The moment the door slams shut behind me, their hands are already on me….rough and fast. Iris’s fingers dig into my upper arm, her nails biting into my skin as she shoves me forward, my heels stumbling over the threshold. Vale’s is right behind me, silent but suffocating, his breath hot against the back of my neck.

Anna The stench of sweat, paint, and alcohol drowned me, making me forget that I was breathing. It was at the point of choking that I realized that Christopher was squeezing the air out of my lungs. I coughed and tapped his back as lightly as I could. “Christopher, you’re hurting me!”

My hands touched Carson’s chest, and I immediately felt a burning sensation in my hands. Pulling them back, I look down to see them blister from the heat. He must be in so much pain, if I am experiencing this so quickly, I think to myself. Steeling myself for the task at hand, I place my hands back where they were. I ignore the burning in my palms, as I follow the flow of silver trying to destroy it as I go.

Kneeling down in front of me he narrowed his eyes once more as he held up the palm of his free hand, “Do you know what iron does to those of you’re kind?” Gulping hard I shook my head before looking at it once more. I noticed a symbol scarred into his hand, it must have been burnt into him. He held up the iron symbol and I realized it was the same symbol, “Give me your hand,” He said sternly. Gulping again I frowned as I instinctively pulled my hand against my chest,

"You children of b*tches, you actually need to grab it from me?" Chapman promptly ventured his hand into the glass box, however the second his hand went after the key, his fingers went numb, and he felt as though he was shocked. Then, an enormous iron paw that seemed as though a doll-getting machine abruptly jumped out from the lower part of the glass box. It was covered with sharp points. The iron paw straightforwardly got Chapman's hand, and those thorns immediately penetrated into his tissue. "Ok!" Chapman let out a blood-coagulating shout. It was at that point inconceivable for him to withdraw his hand. The points clenched down severe with his tissue. If he somehow managed to utilize for

“Make sure you finish this quickly. You need to finish with the deliveries before tonight’s shipment comes in.” With that, she leaves. Iris’ shoulders relax and she takes a moment to examine her hands. There’s spots of blood dotting her fingers and a small scratch on one of her palms. Dried blood paints her skin. She remembers the first time she saw her hands like this in Black Rock. The panic and terror that tore through her. Now she feels nothing. She barely even feels the sting of the open wounds. “Iris?” Iris jerks her gaze up, hands closing to hide the damage instinctively. It takes her a moment to recognize who stands before her. She looks so much older than just the few years it’s bee

“It feels so good not getting your hands dirty just to kill someone, don’t you think? I always wonder why the hell aren’t you enjoying much of this power.” Iris spit the blood from her mouth. Her wrists felt like being pricked by a thousand needles, she stepped on her foot, and screamed in pain when it slipped on the wet metal floor, pulling her body down but restrained with the metal chains that were tied up tightly around her hands. She wanted to cry, but even shedding a tear felt exhausting for her body. And instead, it bled nonstop.

How would she correct the impression? Moreover, she slapped him. He had never raised his hand on her. He did threaten but he never followed through with his threat. She raised her hand first and slapped him. Yet, he was restrained enough to retaliate by slapping her bum instead of her face. She tentatively laid her hand on her sit spot. It was smarting and she was still heavy with regret. She winced at the ache and prayed for the sting to die down. She stayed there buried in cycles of the same thoughts about everything leading up to the present moment.