Your Cross To Bear Novels & Stories

Seraphina stood to the side, smiling indulgently at Alaric. I shook with rage and yelled at the screen. “Are you insane?” Hearing my voice, Seraphina approached, clearly displeased. “What’s with all the shouting? Alaric is performing, don’t interrupt him!” I ground my teeth. “You let Alaric treat my parents like this, and you tell me not to interfere?” Seraphina defended herself with absolute confidence. “Oh come on, Alaric was just practicing in advance. “Consider yourself lucky. If Alaric hadn’t been feeling guilty and wanted to make amends, your parents wouldn’t even have had a chance to witness their own funeral.”

There’s fear, but it’s underpinned by a bottomless well of excitement. There’s also a healthy dose of determination to show this judgy dom asshole that I’m not some internet sub who can’t take the punishment. I stop in front of the cross. The wood is dark mahogany, polished smooth by years of friction. Thick, heavy leather cuffs are bolted to the four points of the X. "Take off your shirt and face the wood," Kir says. His voice has dropped an octave. It isn't conversational anymore. It’s a command. I yank my t-shirt over my head and drop it next to the cross before placing my hands flat against the cold wood.

"I have a record. No one will hire me, and my family cut me off years ago. I can do anything. Clean toilets, wash dishes, anything. Please." I watched the thin line of blood seep from her forehead, and suddenly, a perfect idea formed in my mind. "Oh? Anything?" I asked. "Yes. I'll work like a slave. I'll do anything!" Sophia cried as if this were her only lifeline. I smiled and pointed to the statue of Mars at the club entrance, shipped all the way from Rome. "We happen to be running a new themed exhibition," I said lightly. "Family ethics and social responsibility. A warning to the public."

“I won’t—I won’t ask again—” “You won’t,” Marcus agreed. The word landed like a door slamming shut. Silence stretched between them. Heavy. Suffocating. The morning traffic continued around them, but it felt distant, like the world had narrowed down to just the two of them on that crosswalk. Marcus leaned in just enough that his voice dropped even lower—private, dangerous, the kind of calm that promised worse things if ignored. “I could make you disappear,” he said evenly. “And no one would ask questions.”

Because I wanted something I was never supposed to have. I exhaled slowly. I couldn’t let that happen. Not to him. Not to anyone. If this was the cross I had to carry, then so be it. But I wasn’t dragging him onto it with me.

" When Lena heard my daughter's refusal, she immediately stood up and wanted to curse us both. However, when she looked at the people around us, she decided to kneel again. This time, she held onto Anne's trousers and cried even louder. "Anne! If you won't save my daughter, you're killing my daughter! If my daughter dies, I won't be able to live with myself! Then I'll jump too! You'll be killing both of us!" All our neighbors also started to discuss this. "What a pity. But if the kidney is a match, both of them can survive." "If my friends need a kidney to live, I'll definitely donate one to him. I won't even ask for money." "You can say that because you're not the one suffering. With one ki

She crossed one of her legs over the other. "It's time for her to know the true definition of her daughter. I'll make her see through me whether she likes it or not." I chuckled delightfully, positively imagining the supposed successful outcome of Sally's idea.

"Maddie, stop crying. I will find Astrid and won't let anyone ruin things for you." After hanging up, he stopped looking at the newspapers and shouted, "Astrid, I know you're right here!" "I'm warning you, this is what you owe Maddie. Besides, you took my money. You can't get away with this! You have two days to upload a clarification video or none of the children in that orphanage will live!" That said, he turned around and strode off, his frame slicing through my soul as he went. Rushing over here was all for Madison, and rushing away now? Same reason.

But if not, we will simply have to keep longing for it until we grow old and cross the bar. The End

One member of the bear clan steps, skinny and ruddy faced, steps forward. “Could the wolf girl read the poem again?” Barrett hands the carving back to me with a commanding grunt. I obey, reading the inscription slowly, clearly, and loudly. “Yeah, I know some of those lines,” the bear says. “Where from?” Barrett asks. “My mom used to sing a song like that,” he tells us. “But it wasn’t about a blood feud or a curse or anything like that. It was longer, and kind of different.”