Soundtrack Exit Wounds Novels & Stories

A knife. She felt it slice her back again and again. Her breath became ragged. She didn’t want to pass out now. Not when Bryan was not yet safe. After the fourth slice, she finally had the chance to breathe. She gritted her teeth but the pain in her back now was way past endurance. She was strong, yes, but this was just too much. “This will keep you off my path at least for the next few years. See you next time, bitch.” Yolanda said, entering her car. Lauren could only stare at the cars driving off as the tears that formed her eyes dropped

It only cared that I had pulled my teeth away from a pulse that had offered itself without shaking. The house breathed. Water started somewhere below—pipes waking, a shower’s hiss. The sound went straight into the wound she’d made of me. I didn’t mean to listen. I did anyway. The spray hit her shoulders; I knew the angle from a hundred roofs. Steam rose, and with it the proof that I was still outside—exiled by a rule so old even my bones bowed to it. I could hear the little noises a body makes when it relearns itself. I could hear the moment pride lost to ache; the harsh breath caught between teeth; the quiet, bitten-off sob of someone refusing to say a name she didn’t know.

Jake hissed. Brian’s grin was feral. “Relax. Cops just want a show.” He nodded toward the rusted fire exit, half-hidden behind a defunct conveyor belt. “Move.” They army-crawled through puddles of vodka and worse, Brian shoving the redhead away when she clawed at his sleeve. “Sorry, sweetheart. You’re not on the guest list.” Jake’s Gucci shirt tore on a jagged metal beam, but the exit was close—10 feet, 5. Behind them, boots stomped and radios squawked. “Two males fleeing east side! Suspects in black—*”

I needed to see actual trade. “I think we must exit for dinner the following day,” Jake advised, his voice heat. “Just the two people. We can reconnect.” I hesitated, unsure if I turned into prepared for that yet. “Maybe we are able to do that,” I replied cautiously. “But let’s see how things move this night first.” He nodded, knowledge my want for warning. “I get it. One step at a time, right?” As we talked about our plans, I felt the familiar warm temperature of our connection begin to flicker lower back to existence. But the photograph of him and Mia lingered within the returned of my thoughts, reminding me of the ache I couldn’t absolutely shake off.

After we'd sat there for close to 30 minutes someone else walked in, I didn't see them but I could hear their footsteps as they walked in. I didn't look up until I heard the voice. "Finally." Once the person spoke I immediately knew who it was, the guy I had beat silly. I raised my head up and looked straight into his eyes to let him know that even though I was bound, I was not scared of what he could do. "See the way she's looking at me? She has no fear," there was a very noticeable wound on his left cheek that didn't seem like it was going to be off anytime soon, it was permanent for sure and seeing it made me smile.

Pain was all that I could feel. Blood was all that I could taste. Screams were all that I could hear. Fire and smoke was all that I could see. "Cressida!" I heard my name but couldn't make out who it was. Shattered glass was stinging into my back and the smoke was choking me. My lungs were getting tighter and tighter and it felt like soon they would give up. My eyes were wet to such extent that the vision was far worse than blur. My whole body ached and my back went wet because of the blood and the sweat, and caused my sweat shirt to cling to my back, erupting more pain stinginess.

Swallowing the rising bile, I decided this could be the catalyst for a swift, clean break, as our marriage had long been a hollow shell. I quietly backed out of the bedroom and sank onto the couch. Effie emerged moments later, her posture tense. "Did you call me just now?" I met her gaze with feigned confusion. "No." Relief washed over her, but soon, her expression hardened back to frosty indifference. "I'm off to the office. We can hash out the bonus drama later," she said. "Don't wait up. I might crash there tonight." She left without awaiting my reply. I counted down the minutes, estimating her drive out of the complex, then shrugged into my coat, dashed downstairs, and flagged a cab to t

He glanced at the caller ID, frowning in confusion. ‘Seven.’ The moment he answered, his expression changed drastically. … ‘One.’ A thunderous explosion rocked the sky. The ground trembled, throwing up a cloud of dust that blurred everyone’s vision. Hunter’s face went pale. He spun toward Freya. “What’s happening?” Freya stumbled from the shaking floor, clutching his shoulder, stammering, “I don’t know… an earthquake?” Hunter knew it wasn’t an earthquake. His Beta had called to warn him that their border defenses had been breached. A massive werewolf army was barreling toward them.

“They wandered off?! What if they got lost? Or kidnapped? Or killed?!” Oh, woah. Over-active imagination? Check. “But they didn’t! I found them just in time!” Malcolm Grayson paused, glaring at her with storm brewing in his eyes. In a levelled and controlled, yet somewhat intimidating voice, he muttered, “Get out.” Natasha flinched at the tone of his voice. “Now!” he yelled. She hurriedly grabbed her bag and dashed towards the door. As she pulled the door open, she paused, “Mr. Grayson, can I come tomo…….”

They were like tiny bits of nuclear fire in a vacuum that didn't care. The SwiftRun pack was waking up from their shared nightmare all around us. The silencing siphon was broken, and life, with all its messy, painful beauty, was rushing back in. A woman held her head and started to cry. The return of her sadness was a welcome pain after the emptiness. A man yelled for his partner, and his voice broke with real emotion. The sounds of them waking up were a cacophony of feelings—a symphony from which I would never be able to return. We had saved them. We had won. And I had paid the price that made the win taste bad.