Paranoia Heartsteel Novels & Stories

STEEL The door slammed shut behind us, and the air between us grew tight. I could hear her breathing hard, fast, broken — and it stoked the flames that'd been burning since I spotted her on his arm tonight. I closed the distance in two strides, every muscle tensed, every thought focused on her. She tried to stand up straight, chin high, but her hands trembled where she held her clutch. "Steel—" she started. I cut her off with a snarl. "Shut up, Sin." Her lips parted in surprise, and shock passed over her face, but she didn't move. She never moved when I talked that way. "You know what it did to me," I growled, my fist slamming into the wall beside her head. She winced but didn't back away. "

He grabbed my wrist tightly, “You can’t start a new relationship on a whim! Come with me!” Godden sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, stretching our shadows across the floor. I pinned his hand down, trying to break free from his crushing grip. I stared at him with a terrifying calmness, “Vittorio, you are always so confident. But, how come you don't get that my heart was broken into a million pieces? It will never be fixed. Not ever.”

I pick a random number on the page and check the corresponding side document. 1. $1,000,000 sent to Crane Olympus... Business. 1. $1,000,000 to Crane Olympus... Heart collected. Then I check another. 15. $500,000 received from Emperor T... Payment for work. 15. $500,000 received from Emperor T... Payment for assassination of political opponent. A gasp tears out of me. The phone slips from my hand as though it's poison. As though it's blood. My hands tremble. Rage. Shock. Despair. Fear. Disbelief. Shame. Guilt. Everything crashes into me all at once.

"Every night, I dream of Stan. He begs me to help, saying that his chest hurts—that someone took away his heart. "Who could be so cruel to take away a child's heart? You're Stan's father! He always loved you and admired you, but he never came to you in your dreams?" James was sweating all over his brow, his voice cracking as he argued, "Please, Wanda. You must be paranoid and distraught. I'll take you on a trip when I have time, alright?"

When Help Learns the Locks POV: Matteo I always thought paranoia would feel dramatic. Sweaty palms. Wild eyes. String maps on walls. A muttered speech about patterns no one else can see. Turns out real paranoia feels organized. It looks like Aidan rerouting system permissions. It sounds like Ezra listing vulnerabilities in calm tones. It feels like me standing very still while a distant glowing point politely demonstrates that it can touch our infrastructure whenever it wants. The projection remains faint.

He expressed his surprise. "Yes, I believe it is quite appropriate, given that you have been dubbed as the 'Steel Heart'. I consider you to be my 'Brave Heart.'" She placed her hand over his chest, directly over his scars, silently expressing to him what she means. He leant in close, whispering in her ear as he tugged on the silver chain that was enclosed around her neck. "Say it once more, benim kuzgun saçl meleim." He planted a gentle kiss on her neck, a low growl leaving his lips as she repeated what she had said, breathlessly.

~Valentina~ ------------------------------------------- Paranoia is a clever poison. It doesn’t choke you all at once. It drips. Drips. Drips. Until even the sound of your own heartbeat starts to feel like a lie. I used to be sure of my steps. Now, every hallway feels like a question. Every look from Alessandro, every touch, every word... a riddle I’m too tired to solve. And still, I have to. Because the stakes? They're not just names or bloodlines anymore. They're flesh. Mine. My child’s.

"Generate. Bleed. Serve the Canopy." Participant 61 didn't walk into the arena; he erupted into it. He was a massive, heavily scarred riveter from the deep kinetic forges. The Red Rust had completely consumed his nervous system. His aura, viewed through Marcus's Chrome Diamond pupils, was a terrifying, jagged storm of toxic crimson spikes. His eyes were entirely black, dilated with sheer, psychotic agony. He was no longer a man; he was a vessel of pressurized, violent kinetic sickness desperately trying to explode.

She raised the rapier. She wasn't aiming for the heart. She wasn't aiming for the head. She aimed for my shoulder—a strike designed to sever the deltoid, to detach the muscle from the bone. A maiming shot. My blood spiked. Not adrenaline. Something else. The fever heat under my skin dropped to absolute zero. The Void woke up. It wasn't a power. It was an entity. A parasite nesting in my gut, coiled and starving. It sensed the lethal intent. It sensed the Barzil-steel singing through the air. It sensed the magic inherent in her Highblood muscles.

Swiftly flicking his cigarette, he forcefully turned the steering wheel in the opposite direction, causing the car to spin in circles around the girl. On the other side, Hiya, with her heart pounding, witnessed a black Mercedes approaching rapidly. Overwhelmed with fear, she clasped her hands over her ears and shut her eyes tightly, anticipating an imminent tragedy. In that moment, she believed it was her last day in this world, facing an inevitable and untimely demise.