Pride's Fall Novels & Stories

Content Advisory: This chapter contains scenes depicting explicit and distressing content. Reader discretion is advised. At what point do you decide that your pride isn’t worth it anymore? At what point do you acknowledge that it’s okay to be wrong sometimes? At what point do you forfeit and beg for forgiveness? I suppose it’s not a matter of having the opportunity to when I’ve turned down every single one of them that’s crossed my path. Ultimately, it’s a matter of being backed into a corner and choosing the path of lesser consequence—the path of submission in hope of gracefulness.

“I’ve taken all this abuse and neglect for years. But I’m drawing the line at becoming a trap for a great pack like Io. Especially for a half-rate pack like River Crest that will never amount to anything. Not with idiots like you running the show. I’m done being useful.” Deadrick Pride drops to his knees, clasping his hands tightly in front of him. This really is my day! “Please, Makayla. Please drop the glass!” his voice trembles deliciously. And the scent of pure fear rolling off of him makes my inner child smile. Or, it would if I weren’t so sure she’s been long dead. Truthfully, I feel nothing. Numbness has taken root, and even my pain has succumbed to the weight of it.

Her thighs squeezed in renewed desire, her core aching in wordless, ardent agony at the sheer liquid intensity of his libidinous promise. Get. A. Grip She mercilessly castigated herself, her knuckles becoming white from the severity of her grip on the phone. This unraveling, shameless desire was neither ethical nor permissible under any conditions! Damien Blackwood was a towering financial genius, a hedonistic ruler, and an unrivaled corporate raptor. However, to her, he eventually represented the single most important means to an infinitely bigger professional purpose. That was all he could ever be. Not some wildly virile siren enticing her into dangerous territory of carnal stupidity. She

Clara told him. The demon prince sat down next to her and put his arm around her. “You weren’t expecting anything better from her,” he reminded her. “Now you don’t have to worry about hurting someone who does regret their actions.” “She was wearing flat shoes today,” Clara said with a grin. “I don’t think she’s planning on wearing heels for a while.” Caiden looked proud of his contribution to the plan. “That was some of my best work,” he said. “She would never guess that someone invisible snapped her heels as she was stepping onto the next stair. Watching her slip and fall was funny.”

Peach barely heard him. "Ooh Ooh Ooh Love's my religion but he was my faith Something so sacred so hard to replace Fallin' for him was like fallin' from grace~" Mourge's voice enter Peach ear making her rolled her eyes. This bitch! She even choosw that song! This is not good. She's under Liquor's control and now she's in Prince Caspian's arms. "All wrapped in one he was so many sins Would have done anything, everything for him

"Just like I thought, pride always comes before a fall and I can foresee that your 'fall' won't take long to happen." "As I said earlier, I learn from the best. If pride does come before a fall then I can't wait for yours to start happening anytime soon." Selena smirked and Delilah's mocking smile disappeared. She dragged herself to meet Selena and then snapped her fingers right in front of her eyes with a hateful expression for her.

How could you do this to me? The better question was, why wouldn't I do that to her? My love for her had been built on a lie. What I loved was merely an illusion of her. That person whom I loved had never existed in this world. Soon, Natalie was transferred from the hospital bed to a prison cell. I also received the news that Tyroth's prison was very harsh. Her muscles had atrophied as she had been comatose. So, her body had not fully recovered. It didn't surprise me that she failed to endure labor in prison and eventually died there.

I know where this is going but I didn't think much of it because I have no idea what he was thinking. He continued. “Pride has a strange way of convincing us that we’re always right. It whispers that apologizing is weakness. It tells us that power is more important than people.” His voice remained steady. “But pride lies.” I lowered my eyes. Every sentence felt familiar. Not because he was telling our story. Because I knew exactly where those words came from. “There are moments in life when someone stands beside you through your worst days. They don’t ask for recognition. They don’t ask for applause. They simply stay.”

"DAMN IT!" They were all directed at him. At him. At him. At his failure. At his cruelty. At the monster he'd become. He stumbled again, blood-red hand to face, laughing crazily. Pride had shielded him for too long. Tonight it had been seared away. Weary found him in the morning. On the snowy white marble floor, the city is a dark glittering shape afar beyond the glass wall. Straining chest sinking with each painful breath, lips still whispering her name in sleep.

I took the mic with steady fingers, feeling every heartbeat settle into purpose. “Good evening,” I began, my voice clear. “When I fell, the world thought it was my ending. But sometimes, falling is just the first step to learning how to rise.” A hush swept through the ballroom. Even Adrian’s gaze softened…haunted. “This foundation,” I continued, “is for everyone who has been told they’re less than they are. For everyone who was broken and still found the strength to rebuild.” Applause thundered. For a heartbeat, I almost forgot Adrian was there. Almost.