Torn From Her Arms Novels & Stories

“Tαke her out. Now.” “Don’t touch her!” I screαmed‚ trying to block them with my body‚ but one of the guαrds pried αurorα from my αrms. She cried αnd screαmed‚ “Mommy!” αs they pulled her αwαy‚ kicking αnd crying for me. “Don’t tαke her! Mommy‚ pleαse!”

Her arm dangled at a wrong angle, useless and burning, the pain so intense it made her stomach revolt. "Uhhh... He will kill me for this!" She lay there for a second, gasping air as much as she could. Then fear kicked in as she realized what she had done. Solyn pushed herself up with a broken cry, clutching her injured arm to her chest. Every movement sent lightning through her nerves, but she staggered forward anyway, barefoot, half-blind, desperate. The night air burned her lungs. The mansion loomed behind her, silent and unmoved, like it had known she would fail.

“If you leave, it’ll hurt. More than you can bear.” Her breath shook, but she met his eyes. Black seeped at the edges of his irises, swallowing the gold. “I’ve already survived worse.” With a violent wrench, she tore her arm free. And the warmth shattered. The cobblestones crumbled into dust beneath her feet. The banners collapsed into ash. The laughter disintegrated into screams that cut short. Joel’s perfect face cracked down the middle, splitting apart like porcelain before it dissolved into nothing. The air turned wet, cold, suffocating. The ruined house reformed around her, dark beams sagging overhead. The pendant seared in her hand, icy against her palm.

He spun to look at her and saw she was trembling with her left arm across her bosom clinging to her dress. "What's wrong? What happened?" Ben gasped but the young woman wouldn't look up at his face. "Look at me." Ben said and she lifted her eyes to his. "I'm sorry I ripped the dress you bought for me." she mumbled, her bottom lip trembling. He suddenly noticed it was split. "How did this happen-"

She turned, breathless, wild-eyed, magic flickering around her fingertips like oil and smoke. “This is your last chance, Tess,” I called. “Surrender.” She laughed. “And miss the grand finale?” She raised her arms, and the earth split. Vines exploded upward, twisted and thorned, lashing out at us. One wrapped my wrist. Another tore across Lia’s leg. I roared, yanked free, and slashed the rest down.

Lana took a deep breath and used one hand to tear the lower part of her pants, stuffing the pieces of clothing into her mouth. Through teary eyes, she broke the broken arm again, and this caused her to almost pass out from anguish. She broke three places; her shoulder blade, her elbow, and her wrist. Thanks to the clothing in her mouth which muffled her screams, all she did was sob while seeing dancing stars hovering in front of her. At the brink of losing consciousness, Lana's arm began to heal. Her wrist was gluing together when she heard the shuffling of feet. Standing, she broke into a sprint.

As a reflex, she took a step back, only to be pushed back right into his chest. "Tumhe Meri baat samajh kyu nahi aati hai?" His voice held bitterness, as the grip on her arms tightened. (Why don't you understand me?) Noor, tried her best to not spill a single tear, but maybe it was not in her hand, as water started gathering in her eyes, and her vision got blurry. Arman saw as her expressions changed into a crybaby one. Before he could object, ringing of his mobile, made him release her from his grip. Whereas she tried to sooth that place where he held her harshly.

Then my eyes moved to the front of her shirt. Torn. Not worn or caught on something. Torn, with the specific quality of fabric that had been grabbed and pulled with force. Something settled in my chest. Cold. Precise. The particular quality of cold that preceded decisions I did not revisit. Someone had done this to her. Someone had put their hands on her, had torn her clothing and sent her running into a dark road at speed with her knees bleeding and her face carrying hours of tears, and they had done it tonight, recently, close enough that she was still running when she reached this road.

Soaks into the torn fabric barely covering her skin. The room tilts.

My jaw dropped more. She was still a wolf but more, her front paws like clawed hands, designed for killing. She was the perfect killing machine in this form. She moved with speed I had never seen and batted Silas down like a fly. When he came at her again, she snared him by the neck and held him high as she tore his arm from the socket. The sickening pop as his arm separated from his shoulder made me cringe. When he cried out in pain, she tore the other arm off, a gruesome and unsatisfied look in her eyes.