Bleach Quincy Oc Novels & Stories

Wesley looked up at Frank for the answer. Frank just twirled his keys. “He will be in later. That’s all you need to know.” He replied. Wesley and Jessica continued their conversation as they cleaned. “Hey Bryan, we need some bleach for the floors. Can you go find us some?” Wesley called out. Bryan grumbled, but took the stairs to the 2nd floor with his walkie talkie on. He looked around the well-furnished floor made for sexual exploits to find the storage closet. He found one bottle of bleach inside, but only one, and it was half empty. He reported on his walkie talkie. “I only found one. Where is another?”

Too clean. The scent of bleach hits me first—sharp, chemical, stinging the inside of my nose. Antiseptic lingers heavily behind it, mixing into something cold and clinical. All the blood from earlier? Gone. The mess? Gone. The chaos? Erased so thoroughly you’d think the violence was nothing more than a bad dream. Except it wasn’t. And the two bandaged women in the living room are proof.

Her dress and walking gait is a bold combination that doesn't beg for attention but instead, DEMANDS attention. “Quincy!” Both Zuby and Brie call the name at the same time after the lady—who is now revealed to be the Quincy—reaches us. One after the other, they hug and peek Quincy’s cheeks before letting her go. “You guys look so amazing! I'm so happy to see you guys!” Quincy squeals happily, and I don't know why, but her smile is so fucking beautiful and contagious. She looks like she is glowing and happy not just because she is the birthday celebrant, but like this is who she is every normal day of her life.

“I have really screwed up now, haven’t I?” Yes, you have. My wolf doesn’t cut me any slack and lets me know that I’ve messed up. Hopefully, it’s not beyond repair. “I know that, so you don’t have to tell me, wolf.” My attention turns back to the task at hand as I search through the cabinets for something to clean the blood up. The only thing I find is a gallon of bleach under the sink. It will probably be enough to clean the living room, but that is all it would cover. There just isn’t enough, and it’s not like we are close to a store or anything to get more.

I almost spat out my juice. “Deserves you? Then you two really are perfect for each other. A fake and a dog. You two deserve each other for sure!” “You little…” Jace raised his hand to slap me. “Stop.” A cold, calm voice cut through the room. Quincy was standing beside me. I had not even noticed his arrival. He wore a plain suit. He stood tall and straight. His presence felt distant and sharp. He glanced at Jace like he was staring at garbage.

Blake could hold on much longer. Her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out and glanced at the screen. One eyebrow arched. “Seriously? Now even trash thinks it can approach me?” A sharp, lively voice rang out ahead, accompanied by the crisp clack of high heels. “Oh-ho! Listen to Miss Q! If even people don’t dare get close to you, what makes you think garbage would? Let me see which blind bastard has the guts to piss off our Miss Q today?” The voice arrived before the person.

"Same... Exciting. Killing and torturing people..." Ace winked. Her expressions turned horrified. "Ace please..." "Ok ok I am sorry... I was just messing around. Why are you so afraid of violence?..." he asked curiously. "Not violence but I have a phobia of blood. I can't look at it___ it's just gross..." She shivered remembering the same scene and brutal act of Xavier. He was still giving her nightmares. Ace chuckled. "The daughter of mafia don and still this kind of phobia... Interesting..."

“What's going on?” “I think you guys should clear out.” Lucy rose from her crouch and motioned for us to leave. “Let me handle this, okay?” I stayed put for a moment, but it was clear that our presence was making Blair very frightened. She looked on the verge of passing out again, so I grunted in assent and followed Blake out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind me. “She was very lucky you came along.” Blake stood, arms crossed watching the shut door. He had a troubled look on his face. “But what in god’s name is a vamp doing in these parts? They usually stick to their area over at Mead.”

Tears streamed down my face again—not because of the story I was telling, but because I remembered every second of running out of that grassy area toward Zekiel’s house. How is Zayne now? Is he crying? The thought made me cry harder, so Quinn rubbed my back soothingly. "The balloons—what were they for?" I looked at the officer who asked. "It’s Quinn’s birthday tomorrow. I came here at night to surprise her at exactly midnight." I heard Quinn gasp at my words. "Oh my God, Claire!" I looked at her and saw tears falling from her eyes, so I held her hand and gave her a sad smile. "Is that true, Ms. Bellerose?"

Sarah replayed the news clip, her expression turning serious. “The afternoon before yesterday, Quincy got off work but never drove home. According to her family, her car had been smashed, so she walked back instead. The hospital security said the surveillance footage shows Quincy leaving the hospital, but the camera at the intersection she must pass to reach home never recorded her. That means she was likely taken somewhere along that stretch.” Melvin nodded. “Is it Charlotte?” “There is no one else,” Sarah said coldly. “The only person Quincy has ever offended is Leon Spencer. But I think the one Leon hates most is me. Still, it is only speculation.”