Nothing Is Worth The Risk Novels & Stories

“Because I could stand to lose it?” “Then ask yourself: is it worth the risk?” Luis said. “And if it is, no matter how much heartbreak might come from it, do it anyway.”

“Or am I…something else?” The question hangs there, raw and unprotected. Cassius steps closer, close enough that I can feel his breath. “You’re not a responsibility,” he says. “You’re a risk.” My heart stutters. “And I don’t take risks unless they matter.” His hand cups my face before I can overthink it. His thumb brushes my cheek, grounding, reverent. “I won’t pretend this is clean,” he adds. “Or safe. Or easy.” “I don’t want easy,” I whisper.

She's the kind of woman I can't stand being around so the irony of this arrangement is sickening. Of course, I have better plans for the company but my father is this close to sealing the deal he has worked years on to close so I will let him have this. Even though it's costing me a lot of misery. "James care to explain yourself. I will not have you treating my princess like a leper. You have better get yourself together soon lad before your decisions risk your future of the company and your fathers years of hard work." Wentworth doesn't even look up at me when addressing me, but rather focuses on the detailing Raul is busy with.

“You’re scared of losing control. Scared of what happens if he sees too much. Scared of what it might cost you.” I didn’t respond. Because he wasn’t wrong. He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. “You can’t spend your entire life being scared, Asher.” I scoffed. “Not scared. Just being realistic.” “I’m serious,” he said, his tone firm now. “At some point, you have to decide whether something is worth the risk.” I swallowed. “Because everything worth having comes with risk,” he continued. “There’s no version of this where you get to feel something real and still stay completely safe.”

“Of course I do. Why else would I have bought it?” I shrugged. “True. But doesn’t it burn?” He smiled, raising his eyes slowly until they met mine. “I think anything worth doing is worth doing… intensely.” I swallowed thickly, though I held his gaze, even as I traced the condensation on the side of my pint glass. “You need to be careful, Cyrus,” I said. “Playing with fire inevitably ends one way.” “But what’s life without risk?” He raised one eyebrow, leaning forward across the table.

zayden pulled me closer. Not merging. but holding. because now that mattered. more than anything. “You don’t survive by removing risk,” he said. The words calm. certain. “You survive by choosing what’s worth the risk.” The space shattered. Violently. because now everything conflicted. everything contradicted itself. The presence flickered. unstable. not breaking. but conflicted. because now it had two truths. two choices. two paths. eliminate the connection and ensure stability. or preserve it and risk everything.

He thought: nothing. The word arrived with the force of revelation, not because it was new but because it was true in a way he had never allowed himself to understand. The cost of saying yes to this was not nothing in the sense of being free—there would be risks, vulnerabilities, moments of exposure that would feel like standing on a stoop in December with no coat. But the cost was nothing compared to the alternative. The alternative was desk lunches. The wrong-ratio coffee. The living room that knew it was missing something. The window where you stood watching a street where a person used to be, where a person could be again if you were willing to risk wanting them.

he says. “I am asking you to watch.” “While they build something that could take everything from us.” “While they show us exactly how to break it.” Silence. Long. Heavy. Because this is not an easy decision. Not for him. Not for me. “You are playing a dangerous game,” he says. “I know.” “And you are not afraid of losing.” “I am afraid of not understanding.” That lands. Because in this world… Ignorance is more dangerous than risk. He studies me.

Kane said nothing. His father studied him. "You're too expensive to get shot over something routine. Your time, your exposure, your position — all of it carries a cost that a small shipment cannot justify. That isn't sentiment, it's arithmetic." He looked away briefly toward the window, then back. "When I was younger my father used to say something I didn't appreciate until much later. He said — if you're going to risk yourself, make sure what you're risking yourself for deserves your blood. Because once you're gone, the thing you died protecting had better have been worth everything that comes after." His eyes remained calm. "That shipment wasn't worth it. Whatever happened in that room, wh

I shake my head, "but I don't think this is going to work. I have a terrible feeling that this is all going to sneak up on us and cause more trouble than it is worth." "Impossible," he says with conviction. "It is worth it. You are worth it." He doesn't seem to be able to comprehend that this level of risk is unreasonable. It is almost as if risk means nothing to him. I'm starting to wonder if the risk is what makes it so exciting for him. "You can't mean it. Micah, please tell me that it isn't because you like the thrill of all this." His eyes grow sad. "Is that what you think? Do you think I want to go through with this marriage now just because of the risk?"