Novel & Cerita Are Old Blood Stains Permanent

However, bright red blood stains were visible on her lovely dress. “Ahh!! Blood!!!”

Then he slipped the coat into the outgoing laundry pile. Three days later, the clothes returned. He unfolded the stack and found the old coat. The bloodstain was still there, but far lighter than when it had left. He ran his thumb over the fabric. The fibers felt stiff, worn thin from friction. She had used cold water again. The same method. Knead. Rinse. Repeat. But blood is harder than iodine. Cold water and patience alone cannot lift it completely. She had worked the stain more than five times.

But he didn’t seem to understand what it was or why she was showing it to him. “You remember that man I ran into on the stairs?” She pointed to the handprint stain. “That’s from when he pushed me. I think he was bleeding and he grabbed my jacket….” She was talking fast and her words were rumbling over each other. “Can they pull fingerprints from that? The police, I mean. Or forensics or whoever does that kind of thing…DNA, whatever….” Kael nodded positively, “Yeah…” he was still staring at the mark. If the print is clear enough or if the blood hasn’t degraded too much. Yes, they could pull something from this.”

The stain looked quite deep and my master weapon was a toothbrush. I felt a deep sigh escape my throat as I knelt, my gaze fixed on the blood stain. I weakly ran a finger across the surface and felt my heart sink. It seemed to be deeply embedded and I knew that my toothbrush would be of little use in such a situation. My head slumped against the wall as I resigned myself to the fact that cleaning this stain could easily take me a century with such limited resources.

He shrugged, "I'm sure it's fine by now, the blood is probably from last night." Tyler pulled some clothes out of his closet and began to dress while I inspected the linen for further blood. There were a couple of minor smears here and there, but just the one large splotch, which, admittedly, wasn't huge, but had been enough to catch my attention and upset me to some degree. The stain on the bed seemed to be quite hard and dry now though, indicating that it wasn't fresh blood. Hopefully that meant that the wound that had caused it was indeed beginning to heal.

Everything about him is precise, controlled, perfect. Something’s wrong. I crouch down, my fingers brushing the fabric, finding it stiff in places. When I lift it, straightening on my feet, sunlight catches on a clean slice through the shoulder. But it’s the blood that makes my breath catch—dark brown stains spread across the white cotton like a Rorschach test of violence. I’ve never seen him bleed before…

A wine bottle lay shattered across the floor, its dark stain spreading like dried up blood. It had only been a couple of days but inside of Archer’s mansion felt like it had passed through a different time period. Emilio crouched, touching the edge of the stain. “It could’ve been here for a while.” “Or some hours,” I countered. “Look closer.” He frowned, then noticed what I had already seen which was the edges of the stain were still slightly tacky. Not fresh, but not top old either. “Michael…” His tone carried warning now.

The haze of it feels like it’s going to stay. But I’m wrong. As I drape one arm over his shoulders, watching him lick my juices off his fingers, I notice something strange that even the lights can’t hide. A stain on his shirt sleeve. Blood. Fresh blood.

“You were right. The blood isn’t fresh. It’s at least six months old.” His expression shifted — just slightly. “Six months?” “Yes. And there’s something else.” She hesitated. “The paper had fingerprints. Two sets. One of them’s male... the other’s female.” The silence that followed was so thick it hummed. Zane’s eyes flicked to me. “Interesting.” I took a step back. “Don’t look at me like that. I didn’t even know the envelope existed until today.” He didn’t answer — just stared, his expression unreadable.

Dark coffee stains spread across the front where Emma had unleashed her righteous fury, and now fresh, darker stains of Elara's blood marked the cuffs and jacket. I couldn't see Vivian like this. I couldn't appear before her looking like I'd just emerged from a territorial skirmish. The last thing I wanted was to frighten her or add even a flicker more distress to her already burdened heart. I ducked into a deserted healer's annex washroom, normally used by off-duty staff. The water from the tap ran bitingly cold against my skin as I frantically tried to scrub the stains from my jacket and shirt. My hands were clumsy with the unfamiliar task. Alpha Kings, especially those who led organizatio