Pin Against Wall Novels & Stories

I raised my dripping hand, aiming for a punch at his jaw, but before my hand could come into contact with his jaw, he grabbed my hand and spun me around, pinning me against the wall. His face was so close to me that his warm breath sent the hairs on the back of my neck to prickle. He gave me a smile that would have otherwise been charming if he didn't have me pinned to a wall with one leg between mine. "Let me go," I hissed through gritted teeth.

On the other side rest big machinery all of which have red stains on them. Thick black doors makes up the right side of the wall that continue down the hallway all made from a type of metal that makes it impossible for anyone to break in or out of it. The stench of blood, grime, and urine hang in the hair and I take a big gulp, trying to swallow the bile that is coming up. Adair is well in front of us, walking dauntlessly without even taking a second glance at any of the red stains on the walls. Nick’s mouth is set in a tight line and he continues to glance at me behind his shoulder to make sure I’m okay.

It wasn’t perfect, but it would do. Then I stood. Still shaking. Still wired. My eyes scanned the room like a soldier coming down from a firefight. And that’s when I saw something. Near the fireplace, almost invisible against the dark rug. A small object. I walked toward it and crouched down. It was a pin. A black, round metal pin. Matte. About the size of a coin. At first, it looked like a plain old button. But then I saw the detail—a raven, etched in the center. Wings partly outstretched, perched on a thin branch.

“A creepy caviar-eating stalker doesn’t fit the CV, Mr. Sinclair.” He chuckled. “Whatever you say, Mrs. Sinclair," Crap. I looked for something I could use to change the topic. “The transparent wall—there's nothing to cover it—doesn’t give a lot of privacy.” I chastised. I didn’t see a curtain or veil. “It isn’t see-through. It’s tinted from the outside; unless it’s a sunny day and you’re pressed up against it, no one can see through it. And also-“ He clapped twice, and a black curtain fell over the wall.

When Zayden looked at what he just did, he felt proud of his work, he would have left a few more hickey when exactly at that moment, the doorbell rang and she abruptly stood up. “I will get it.”, She said to run away from there. Zayden smiled to see her blush. Grace was about to leave their room but, in the midway, she remembered about the security system. She turned around to tell him that he should open the door because she didn’t know the PIN. “47112”, Zayden said. “What?”, She asked, not understanding his reply. “The PIN is 47112. Go on! Open the door.”. He said smilingly. Grace gaped at him for a few seconds. Did he just tell her the PIN? Last time he had told her that he would tell her

The reflections of the trees on the dark blue water were impressively real looking. “Just lift the right corner up a little. A little more. Yeah, perfect,” I said. Heather pushed a pin through the corner to secure it to the wall and then another in the other corner. Once she’d done all four she stood back with her hands on her hips to admire it. In my opinion the painting was a little small for the wall she’d chosen, but I didn’t utter a word about that. “Looks good.”

There, built flush into the plaster, was a keypad and the steel dial of a biometric wall safe. "Gunner!" I barked. He was by my side in seconds. He took one look at the safe, pulled the combat knife from his belt, and wedged it into the seam of the plaster, trying to pry the panel off. "It's reinforced steel, Prez. We need C4 or a blowtorch to get through this." "I don't have time for a blowtorch.” I snarled. I unholstered the gun from my hip, pressed the barrel directly against the electronic locking mechanism, and pulled the trigger three times.

The walls are a medium yellow, with one wall having a light blue flower wallpaper design. There’s a little eat in dining area, with four chairs and then a bench on the far side. It’s absolutely cozy and welcoming. The wall behind it has a wrought iron piece of a wolf howling at the moon and the insignia for the Midnight Moon pack. I recognize it from several similar pieces that are in their packhouse.

I was stammering and my feet moved backwards unconsciously, hiding my lower body behind the kitchen bar counter. "Oh, don't worry. The safety pin was on. It wouldn't be fired even if I pull the trigger," he said calmly, taking the gun and showing me the safety pin. Then he aimed the tip at the wall and kept pulling the trigger to show me that the gun was not firing. I kept trying to cup my ears when he did that.

Corvin asked. I swallowed. “If ‘do it’ means ‘hit it in the right spot and hope the system interprets it as a narrative beat, not vandalism,’” I said, “then yes.” I lifted my piece of rebar. “Everyone step back,” I warned. “If this goes wrong, we’re going to have a lot more company.” They obeyed, shifting a few paces back, forming a loose semicircle. Corvin stayed closest. Of course he did. I took aim at the thin seam along the panel’s side where the casing met the wall—the spot that, in every movie, somehow always popped open when someone hit it hard enough.