Torn Novels & Stories

I tell him as I start to feel a little woozy. “Are you okay?” Deacon asks, gripping my shoulder to steady me. “My arm got torn up by a wolf and I'm pretty sure I've broken both arms,” I groan as the adrenaline wears off and the pain becomes increasingly more intense. “Okay, I got you,” Deacon says, lifting me into his arms and if I didn't feel like my arms were about to fall off and my head wasn't spinning from the pain I’d make a joke about understanding Josie’s obsession with his big strong arms now that I'm in them.

He spat, and two of his teeth clattered to the ground. Lucian's eyes widened in horror as he stared at his teeth on the floor. He picked them up and started filling them back into his mouth. He let out a groan when the teeth weren't staying in their position. “My teeth...” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. The words were filled with horror, and his hand trembled as he touched his swollen jaw. “What have you done?” How could the almighty Moonshield Alpha lose his teeth? What a shame!. This should be a reminder of his cruelty towards people.

He clutched his bleeding neck as his blood stained the white chiffon shirt he was wearing. "Bunny," he struggled to say my name. "It's Rowena!" I raged again, kicking him hard in the face… and that was it. Thorne fell to the ground. I didn't know if he was dead or not. All I knew was that he wasn't moving. Even with what I had done to Raven and Thorne, my anger still didn't wash away. The anger still burned. I was still furious. Pained. Shattered. I looked down at my hands that had Raven and Thorne's blood on them.

“But I have to go back to the city. I need to plan my life. I’m not who I used to be. I’m someone else now.” Tears welled in the woman’s eyes. “Will we ever see you again?” “Yes,” Maya promised. “But for now, I have to find who I really am.” She turned and walked down the road, her coat fluttering behind her, wind brushing against her skin like a final goodbye from the girl she used to be. Maya. Dora. Both reborn. she couldn't make up the courage to tell them she wasn't Dora. she went back to Arden's place because she didn't want her revenge to be so faint. She wanted them to feel the impact of her return.

Then much faster. Sharp black claws pushed through the tips of his fingers. I took an unconscious step backward. "No..." His shirt stretched tightly across his broadening shoulders. The sound of ripping fabric filled the air. Rrrrip! The sleeves split apart first. Then the back. Within seconds, the entire shirt tore apart, falling to the ground in shredded pieces. His trousers didn't last much longer. The seams burst as his legs thickened, the fabric tearing apart under the pressure. The transformation looked painful.

Something unfamiliar. Slowly, he removed his torn shirt, letting it fall to the ground. His gaze dropped to his arm. The wound looked… wrong. Still blackened at the edges. Still ugly. Still unnatural. But it wasn’t the same as last night. Part of it had closed slightly. Not fully healed…no. But different. Alive. He flexed his fingers slightly, and pain shot up his arm instantly. His jaw clenched, a low hiss escaping through his teeth. “…damn it…”

She raised her head up from her laptop, arching her brows in confusion. “What?” “You heard me right,” my grip on the envelope tightened, and my voice deepened with resistance. “I’m not agreeing to this divorce.” She chuckled nervously, and I heard her teeth gritting in annoyance as she tilted her head forward. “Sage, you need to sign this.” I raised the envelope to her face, making sure she had her focus fully on me, watching my subsequent actions. With her eyes fixed intently on me, I tore the envelope— not open to read the papers, but to shred it into tiny pieces.

“Rot under varnish.” They teased it up, and it came away in one satisfying unmasking—false strength yielded to true weakness that could actually be mended. That piece took their power cleanly, gratefully, like a hinge drinking oil. The rent drew itself together another inch. Then the third crossing arrived—the one the visions had not dared to name.

He drove his other hand over the beast’s back, fingers digging into that scarred circle just behind the left shoulder blade. The sigils pulsed. For a heartbeat, the entire alpha froze, muscles locking. Its eyes went wide, and too many pupils dilated at once. “That!” I shouted. “Crush it!” Corvin’s fingers dug in harder. He wasn’t just hitting now—he was **tearing**. He dug into the scar, ripping flesh and fur aside until I could see the thing lodged there: a chunk of metal and bone and something else, fused into the creature’s body like an embedded parasite.

I don't bother to look at the screen, keeping my eyes on the ceiling tiles, counting the little dots to keep from focusing on the throbbing weight in my thigh. "You have a complete tear of the anterior cruciate ligament," he explains, his voice flat. "The medial collateral ligament is severely damaged too. On top of that, the lateral meniscus is torn clean through the middle." Torn ACL. Torn MCL. Torn meniscus. The triple injury. "What's the timeline?" My voice sounds thin, cracked from the dry room air. But shit! It's really bad. I want to show how much it fucking