A Blood Story Novels & Stories

Everything felt like a blur…people talking, footsteps echoing, the cold seeping into my bones. “He was bleeding so much,” I whispered. “So much… He was protecting me.” My brain processed how everything must have happened and how the gunshot must have sounded and happened. Bruno was been adamant about telling me the full story behind his gunshot and what he was up to. Minutes dragged by like hours. I paced. Sat. Stood again. Cried. Pried for answers. Bruno tried calming me. I didn’t even notice when another man in black came back with packets of blood. Apparently, Darren’s blood type was rare. They’d had to pull strings.

I should say something. I should tell her I understand or that I’m sorry or literally anything. But the words stick in my throat because all I can think is that my brother did this. My brother is the reason her son is drowning. The reason she’s sitting here in this expensive café, desperate enough to hire a stranger. She opens her bag. Pulls out a thick folder and sets it on the table between us. “This is the contract,” she says. “I want to walk you through it so there are no surprises.”

"You told me you don't know who. I believe you don't know the name. But you know something about them. You don't get to eighteen months inside an operation without picking up texture. What do you know?" He's quiet. His broken finger is purple now, the knuckle grotesquely swollen, and there's blood drying on his chin from the lip Declan split, and he has the look of a man who has been making calculations for the last twenty minutes and keeps arriving at the same answer, which is that he is out of leverage and what's left is just deciding how much more of this he wants before he says everything he knows. "They called them the Ghost," he says finally. "That's all I ever heard. The Ghost. Someon

" Page by page, I turned through it. The crowd gradually fell silent. "In this house, every bite of food I ate, every piece of clothing I wore, had a clearly marked price." I closed the notebook and looked straight into Brian's eyes. "Dad taught me this since I was a kid. Fair exchange. No free lunch. "So, tell me. Why should I pay for his medical bills now? What does his illness have to do with me? Is this something I consumed?" Brian's face changed. He stammered. "Th…that's still our dad! He raised you! That kind of debt is greater than anything!"

Not after seeing what was in front of them. One of them shouted something about securing the area, but it sounded distant, meaningless. A doctor pushed through the line anyway. Another followed. Then another. And suddenly the argument started. Too many voices. Too many decisions being made too late. “He is losing too much blood.” “We cannot treat him until the weapon is cleared.” “If you wait, he will die here.” Chloe lifted her head slowly. Her face was completely soaked, not just from tears but from blood she didn’t even seem to notice anymore.

"Grace , your face doesn't look too good, is there anything wrong with the test results?" Fitch asked with some concern. "Nothing, just need to take medication for a while, I hate taking medication, it's just torture for me." I said with a show of hands. "So you are also afraid of taking medicine." Fitch said jokingly. I then found an excuse to go back to the estate without Fitch accompanying me. I dug into the study and got a whole bunch of books from the shelves related to the Bloods. Eventually, I found an entry in the book about the conception of blood offspring.

I could still feel it—warm and wet and terrifying—his life’s blood seeping out and onto my arms. The nurse gave a soft chuckle, oblivious to the war inside my chest. "ABX is almost unheard of. It’s the rarest of rare. There are thousands of wolves who will go their whole lives without meeting someone with a matching type." She glanced at the bag beside me, the tube still drawing slow, rhythmic pulses of blood from my arm. "It’s why we don’t have a big store of it. Why we always need more," she went on. My fingers dug into the armrest. A slow, creeping tightness began to build in my shoulders.

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

. He grits his teeth in anger and says, “I don’t know where the hell they have gone.” In a while, Doctor Rosalind comes out of the room, and they approach her with their beating hearts. “Blood is needed immediately,” she tells them, panicking. Zen asks her about the blood type, but when she tells her it’s negative and not available in the hospital, their mouths get wide open. Now, from where will they manage the type A negative blood? Everybody starts to panic now. "C'mon, do something; otherwise, it’ll get hard to save the mother and the baby.” Zen closes his eyes in frustration and says, “Let me see.” He comes to the balcony and starts to call other hospitals for negative blood, but he sto

"Dr how is my wife now - I asked to him. "Mr ahad she has a deep cut in forehead and she has blood loss, she is hoaemophilic and her blood group is AB- so that is not available in blood bank and her left leg's tibia bone is cracked but we have plastered it. We need blood of same blood group so plz arrange it - said doctor. And then I remembered she once told me that her blood group is rare and she is hoaemophilic. "Dr my blood group is also AB- so I am ready to give blood - I said.