Bleach Quincy Sternritter Novels & Stories

Increase the dose. I suck in air too fast. The room tilts. Jeremy catches it on my face. "Adis." "Bleach," I mutter. "There was a room. Clinic room." His good hand grips the back of my neck, grounding me. "Stay here." As if I can do anything else. Boots hammer across concrete. More people now. Familiar scents break through blood and dust. Soap and pine smoke. Amber. Panic hits harder than the shock did.

But the lemon smell is overpowered by the horrible scent permeating the room. “What’s that awful smell?” I say, waving my hand in front of my nose. “It sucks to have a sensitive wolf nose right about now,” Callan says. “This is bleach. It’s the only thing I could think of to get the bloodstains off the floor.” “Is Ethan okay?” I ask, sitting my backside on one of the chairs. “Other than a bad hangover, he’ll be fine by tomorrow.” Callan grabs a pink-stained towel and wipes the water and bleach from the floor.

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!

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.

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.

“I’ll ask the doctor to prescribe a nutritious solution and set up an intravenous drip for you. Even if you don’t eat anything, nothing will happen to you.” Quincy glared at him in disbelief. Her lips trembled in rage. After a while, she managed to speak up, “Dayton Night, you’re truly a devil!” “Right, I’m a devil, so please stop arguing with me.” Dayton inched closer to her after speaking. He caressed her face with his long and slender fingers as he spoke to her in a low voice, “Quincy, don’t hate me.” Quincy was so enraged that she started trembling all over. She could not say a single thing.

The blow left him dazed, too stunned to fight back. After several blows, Quentin finally stopped. Connor huddled in the corner, his face bloodied and terrified. Quentin walked over to the sink and turned on the tap. He held his bloodied knuckles under the running water, watching the blood swirl pink in the basin before washing away completely. Even after his hands were clean, Quentin left the water running. He looked up, meeting Connor's eyes in the mirror. "You can call them now." Connor didn't respond. He didn't even move.

He’s barely conscious now, hovering right on the edge of the abyss, his eyes rolling back in his head as the pain completely overrides his brain's ability to process reality. I step back from the table, setting the bloody scalpel down next to the hammer. Reaching for the bottom shelf of the cart, I retrieve a heavy plastic jug of industrial bleach. Twisting the cap off, the sharp, noxious chemical fumes instantly cut through the scent of copper and sweat in the room. "Wake up," I snap, slapping Stefano sharply across the face with my bloody glove. He gasps, his eyes fluttering open, hazy and completely unfocused.

rather than replying, "And who are they? And where am I?" She replied, "I am sure you meant to refer to those gorgeous hotties; haven't they introduced themselves to you yet?" This time, I decided to refrain from responding to her and instead let her enlighten me. "Quen happens to be a close friend of ours, in fact, Blaze's best friend who lives with us, but it's an extended narrative for some other time as I don't want to bore you with our lives, so I'll just introduce myself as Blythe, Blaze's sister."