Bleach Quincy Sternritter Novels & Stories

Quentin flinched, sneering at me as he used his suit jacket to wipe my saliva away from his face. “Fucking bitch!” He growled. He was framing her to take the fall. And, like the complete idiot she was, she was letting him do it. I turned to focus my glare on Rhoda’s shaking form. She wasn’t even confident. She was a scared, shaking little mess. The sound of a phone ringing suddenly cut through the air, and Quentin sighed, pulling his phone out of his pocket. He glanced at the screen, a mischievous smile on his face as he turned his phone so it was facing me and I could see the name flashing on the screen.

the person said. The man smiled. "I'm on it" he bow before walking off. The figure sat there drinking tea. "Soon, it'll all be mine. I'll kill you like I killed you parents, you will not live to know the truth, Quincy Sterling Grey" the figure gritted out in anger. The question we are all wondering, who are this people after Quincy.

She laughs throwing her head back and nodding while she drains his shirt, twisting it with her hands. "You know what? Fucking Screw this shit!....he wants clean laundry? he'll have clean laundry!" I get up, grabbing all the clothes we had already finished, and ball everything up together in a big mountain pile. I grab the bottle of bleach and pour the whole liquid on top of his clothes. Mind I say most of his clothes are either business suits, or dark-colored, but mainly, business attire. I drain every ounce of that bottle and let it sit for a few minutes, before I rinse, and hang it to dry. Now, to wait for his reaction!

she confessed. With his free hand he ran through his hair, tousling those thick locks in a way that made Leia's heart beat faster. That and the boyish blush on his cheeks which had her convinced wasn't just from the swamp heat. Her eyes returned to watch the swirl of red gravel drifting towards the storm drain. Sterling attacked the crimson stains with new vigor and bleach as an awkward silence fell between them. Neither of them will willingly to break it just yet. But unfortunately the chemicals Sterling had already poured on the blood stains had masked any scents of her wolf she might have found directly at the murder scene.

Quinc'ys face paled, even as Stan took off his tie and stuffed it into her mouth. Isaac rose to his feet as well, picking up the switchblade and ejecting the blade—it was not particularly huge, but very sharp. "I can do it, sir," Stan said, walking up to him. Isaac, however, stayed silent as he walked around the table toward Quincy and pressed the blade against Quincy's face. He just needed to apply little pressure, and the blade would cut through Quincy's skin. Quincy could only whimper, her pupils dilating as her whole body stiffened.

Nine Lives was a strip club on the edge of 107th and hell, and that was me being generous about the location. It was also the place I'd been calling my second home for the past three years. "This bitch must think I'm all kinds of stupid!" Bianca Quinn—self-proclaimed queen of Nine Lives—tossed her faux diamond earrings onto her vanity with a toss of her manicured hand, the lights flickering in the wake of her anger. Sirens had a hard time keeping their electromagnetic fields in check during times of high stress, and Bianca wasn't an exception just because she was half. She flipped her head back, locks shifting from blood-red ringlets to her more natural blue-black straightness.

Christina, whether genuinely grateful or just pretending, responded calmly, "Thanks for stepping in, Mr. Wright." Quinton smiled and said, "Christie, from now on, just call me Quinton, alright? Since you're coming with me to Blumedale to start fresh, your problems are my problems now. Don't worry. With me around, nobody will dare lay a finger on the Stevens family again!" Suddenly, a sharp, sarcastic round of applause rang out, breaking the moment. Quinton turned and snorted. "Andrew, what the hell are you clapping for?"

He bellowed, "The nerve! Quentin, do you even realize what you're stirring up?" Quentin burst into a scornful laugh. "You think I don't know what I'm up to? When I was ruling the streets of Drunham City, you were nowhere to be found. Now, you dare come here, challenging me? I'm not just going to roll over and die. I'm warning you: I'm not the forgiving type. When I get tough, I don't even spare my own family!" While he was talking, Quentin gave a knowing look to the bald guy next to him. The guy got the message, whipped out his phone, and dialed a number.

Right now Betty and Teresa could have placed his picture on a dart board and took turns on pointing and throwing arrows on his forehead. “Well..” “You are scared.” “Of Betty and Teresa?” “Oh no.” “Who then?” Quentin Black prided himself for being though and mean. He feared no one. “Max.”

The subterranean laboratory of Sterling Tower was a graveyard of shattered white crystal and pulverized concrete. The air still carried the biting, ozone-heavy chill of the Static, but the immediate threat was dead. Jack Sterling knelt on the cracked floor, his dark-gold eyes scanning Olivia’s pale face. The psychic core of his pack was trembling, her silver eyes wide with the lingering horror of a mind-wipe that had been mere seconds away from permanent formatting.