Crossing The Lines Novels & Stories

It wasn’t something I could name, but it felt like something pulled in two directions and refused to tear. My fingers tightened slightly around the brush. “…I don’t know,” I said finally, dipping the brush into the orange and stroking along the canvas. It came out quieter than I intended. Behind me, I heard him shift, just slightly. “Mm,” Ernest hummed, like he hadn’t expected anything else. I dipped my brush back into the paint, dragging a darker stroke through the center; cutting through the softer colors like a line being drawn where it didn’t want to be. “He can’t do both,” I added after a moment. The words slipped out before I could stop them.

I took a pen and crossed a line through Cassius' name. Eighteen left.

“That’s your assumption.” “It’s my certainty.” That word again. Certainty. Like everything about this was already decided. I shook my head. “You don’t get to decide how I feel.” “I don’t need to.” “Then stop acting like you do.” Silence. Then— “You’re crossing a line,” I added. A pause. Then— “You drew it,” he said. “Yes.” “And you think I won’t cross it.” “I think you shouldn’t.” “That’s not the same thing.”

*Chapter 80* The Line in the Dirt* *Word count: ∼1617words* Day thirty-eight after the ruling, and the line was still there. Not a river. Not a ridge. Just a shallow groove scratched into the earth with a blade, running east to west for half a mile. Luna had drawn it herself the morning after the council gave Red Fang the southern grounds. It wasn’t a border. It was a reminder. Cross it, and the peace breaks.

And they're finally learning to cross it. End of Chapter 179

Diven and Zvan agreed. They were silent. “Why have I been called a Cross the Line?” What's the line? Deven finally asked. - The path to the Swan Crossings is closed to people. Every moon we renew the protection. You have crossed the guard line. You have the Gift, don't you? “Yes,” he nodded. - Show me. Diven turned his palms upside down and extended them to the owner of the hut. Pale skin was engulfed in a green glow, similar to the glow of swamp lights. Through the flashes of flame, the hands seemed transparent, as if not a living man was standing, but a navi.

Yet, I still crossed it. I know I had to find Lily. I had no choice but to find the girl. I shifted once I crossed, knowing that my black pelt will make it more obvious I was not part of their pack, but I will be easier hidden in the shadows. I ran through the trees, picking up the faintest scent of Lilacs. It led me further and further away from safety but closer to Lily. That was… up until my senses got overwhelmed by the smell of coffee. O crap…

The lines were crossing now. And there was no turning back.

Heather Jenner glanced at the ovulation test strip in her hand. The result was clear—a bold red line. Today was the day. Her body was about to release a mature egg. It would be her best chance to conceive. Without hesitation, she tossed the strip aside and stepped out of the bathroom. In the expansive, minimalist living room, a man lay sprawled across the sofa, drunk. His white dress shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing the smooth, pale skin beneath. The gentle rise and fall of his throat with each breath was tantalizing.

Blinding. Something collides with the back of my skull and my world tips. I collapse forward, hands scraping against the floor, vision flickering. The voice changes. Now female. Cold. Detached. “He talks too much.” My blood sings in my ear. My body is failing me, limbs heavy as lead. The man speaks again, voice lower. “He’s remembering, that’s the problem.” I try to lift my head and everything spins. Then I feel it–something brushing my face. Fabric. Tight. Restricting.