She Took The House The Car And My Heart

Chapter 905:

Kristian meant to leave it there, but something tugged at him. He stepped closer, his long arms wrapping around her in a warm embrace, his chin resting gently on her shoulder. “If you forget me, it’s like I was never here.”

Freya’s hands lingered at her sides, unsure, but after a beat, she lifted them to hold him close.

Feeling his frame stiffen just a touch, she said, “I’ll keep that in mind.” Her words lit a spark in Kristian’s chest, melting away his wild thoughts and reckless urges.

He used to think he needed Freya to be his and his alone, but now he saw it clearly: as long as she held him in her memory, one embrace was enough. It was an embrace that carried all of him.

“Come back with me,” Freya said, letting go, her striking eyes steady and earnest. “We’ll wander the world, find joy in the small stuff.”

“Nah,” Kristian brushed it off, not drawn to that. “You’re the brightest soul I’ve ever crossed paths with—nothing else holds a candle.”

Freya froze for a moment.

Out of nowhere, a knife gleamed in Kristian’s hand. He flashed a small, charming smile. “Just remember, there’s a guy in your life named Freyrian Shaw.”

With those words, he gripped the knife and drove it toward his chest. To Freya, maybe he’d squared his debts, but for him, he was ready to close the book himself.

The blade tore through his shirt.

Freya’s eyes went wide. She lunged, grabbing his wrist and yanking it back. With a quick press on his joint, the knife slipped from his grip, clattering to the ground. It all happened in a flash.

From Kristian’s sudden move to Freya knocking the knife away, barely a second passed.

ɢ𝔞l𝓷𝓸v𝔢𝓵𝓼.c𝓸m brings fresh updates

She hadn’t seen it coming—neither his pull of the knife nor the speed of his self-destructive act.

“Kristian!” Freya’s voice cracked as blood bloomed across his white shirt, her heart sinking like it was caught in a vise.

His strength had been too fierce, too fast.

Even with her quick reaction, the blade had still nicked his flesh. She whipped out a handkerchief, folded it tightly, and pressed it hard against the wound. “Are your bodyguards still out there?”

Kristian shook his head.

The last of his crew had already hauled the criminals off to the police station. He hadn’t left himself an exit plan.

Freya pulled out her phone, demanding the number for the bodyguard who’d pick them up, but Kristian clammed up, stubborn as ever.

“Forget it,” he muttered, wincing from the sting of the wound.

“It’s not deep—it missed anything vital,” Freya said, eyeing the blood on the knife’s tip and the flow from the cut, piecing it together. “But if you want me to sling you over my shoulder and carry you out, keep stonewalling.”

The wound wasn’t lethal, but it wasn’t a paper cut either. Left untreated, it could spiral into trouble.

Kristian slumped in Freya’s arms. He quietly palmed the knife again, hoping she wouldn’t notice, and tossed out a distraction. “If I kick the bucket, no one’s gonna hassle you anymore.”

The knife hit the ground again as Freya swatted it from his hand, kicking it far out of reach.

“You’re not dying, and I’m not letting you slip away,” Freya said, her voice steady as steel. She patched his wound as best she could and hoisted him up, carrying him out.

.noveldrama

.

.