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Where Blood Meets Desire
Huling Na-update:
2025-08-05 11:33:01
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The Cost of Saving Him A New Fire Within
-Mina-The message glowed on the cracked screen of the phone. DIG HIM UP.Frankie didn’t ask questions. He grabbed the keys, threw a rifle in the trunk, and drove like he meant to break the road. Luca tailed us, headlights burning holes in the rain.We hit the cemetery gate and ditched the car before it stopped. The night guard shouted, then saw our faces and backed off. The ground around Corey’s plot had turned to black soup. Spot’s tin box sat crooked in the mud. A shovel leaned against the fresh wound. Someone had stuck a cigarette butt in the mound like the dead were a joke.I dropped to my knees. The mud clung coldly around my legs. Frankie dug with both hands, teeth clenched. Luca took the shovel and carved, fast, vicious, unblinking. Metal in dirt, the worst sound in the world.We hit the coffin lid. Luca pried it open with the shovel edge. Corey lay there, pale and wrong, wrapped like someone who left mid-breath. A folded envelope sat on his chest.Frankie snatched it with mud
The Cost of Saving Him What Remains of Loyalty
-Mina-The cemetery looked like a bad joke the sky was telling. Rain chewed the edges of umbrellas. Mud inhaled the shoes as if it wanted to keep us. Corey’s casket was polished and pointless. Spot’s tin box sat beside it, obscene in its neatness. People whispered like they were afraid to offend the dead. I wanted to stomp their throats until the noise stopped.Frankie stood across from me with his hands clasped hard enough to whiten his knuckles. Cleaned up and ruined at once. Luca was a statue at my left shoulder, coat collar up, rain slicking his hair flat.The priest tried to make grief sound pretty. I hated him for it. Corey set alarms on my phone labeled “Drink water, dumbass.” Danced with old ladies and called them queens. He burned on a stairwell because two rich bastards wanted to send a message.Frankie spoke hoarsely. “He was my friend. He did not run. He held the line.” He stared past me. “He loved this family. He loved that fucking dog.” A laugh broke out of me and turned
The Cost of Saving Him Ashes Don't Lie
-Mina-The morning after the rescue came with a silence I didn’t trust. It wasn’t peace, just the thin layer of calm that forms before rot sets in. Frankie brewed coffee that no one drank. Tony slept on the couch, stitched and pale. Luca hadn’t come back since the argument, and the house felt wrong without the weight of him pacing the floors.Frankie handed me a mug and watched me over the rim of his own. “You should try to rest.” I shook my head. “If I close my eyes, I’ll see it again. Marco, the knife, Tony’s face. Rest doesn’t fix that.”“Neither does walking around like you’re waiting for a bullet.” He took a step closer. His shirt still smelled faintly of gunpowder. “You don’t have to carry this one alone.”“I dragged it into existince. That makes it mine,” The words cracked in the air between us. Carrying a weight I never knew would be mine to carry. He sighed and brushed his thumb against the side of my neck where a bruise was forming. The touch made my throat tighten. “You don
The Cost of Saving Him Until Dawn
-Mina-Dark came and went in slices. The floor was cold and had a greasy smell. When light finally held, zip ties bit my wrists, and Tony sat three feet away with blood drying on his shirt. He lifted his eyes when I breathed.“Stay small,” he whispered. “Make them think you are nothing.”A door clanged. Marco crossed the room with a smile that belonged on a billboard and a knife that did not. Two men shadowed him. One had a swallow tattoo by his ear. The other wore a long scar from jaw to collarbone.“You made this easy,” Marco said. “Brave is just another word for predictable.”“Tell me why he loves you,” he said. “Tell me why he keeps bleeding for a woman who burns his house to feel warm.” I looked away, ignoring him.Marco flicked the knife against Tony’s rope. Not a cut. Just a sound. Tony did not flinch. Marco nodded to the tattooed man. The punch that followed drove breath from Tony’s lungs. He coughed, and a red mist dotted his shirt.“This is not personal,” Marco said. “Alaric
The Cost of Saving Him The Cost of Courage
-Mina- Tony was supposed to check in every twenty minutes. He never missed a call, not once, according to Luca. When the clock struck the half hour and the radio remained silent, I felt a sense of wrongness crawl up my spine. Corey was the first to move, slamming his headset down as his fingers flew over the feed controls. The alley camera went black and remained that way. The van feed froze on static. No Tony. No movement. Only the echo of tires fading down wet streets.Frankie appeared in the doorway, still in his jacket, the smell of smoke clinging to him. His voice cut through the static. “Tell me you have eyes on him.”“Feed’s cut,” Corey said. “It’s not weather. Someone killed the line.” I pushed past them, palms flat on the desk, watching a square of nothing where Tony should have been whistling through another shift. My throat felt too tight to breathe. “Call him.”Frankie did. The ring went silent halfway through. No voicemail, no tone. Dead. He sent a text, and a few moment
The Cost of Saving Him The Heat That Follows
-Mina- I stood there, looking at all the damage, angry because of all the work Corey and all of their guys had put into it. And all this on opening night at that. I could handle bloodbath level, but this. I knew at this moment, I was officially done with the bar. At least I was for now. Frankie grabbed my wrist gently, pulling the gun from my hand, “They are gone now, you can put this up.” I heard the car before I saw it, looking through what once was a wall. The tires squealing against the wet roads broke the weird silence that lingered over the interrupted conversations. The car came to a dramatic stop in front of the bar, and Luca stepped out. He walked straight to the bar, scanning faces. His coat was wet at the hem from the rain. His hair hung in sharp lines on his forehead. For a moment, he stopped and looked at me, and the look in his eyes punched the air out of my lungs. It was worse than the men’s threats. It was a combination of disappointment and betrayal.Don Rinaldi w
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