Bleach Volume 70 Novels & Stories

"This is a poison. If anyone keeps drinking this for, let's say… eight months to one and a half years, depending on when they started, and depending on the dose given—and the person's immune system—if luck isn't on their side, they won't even remember how to breathe. The person's heart will just... stop. And it will look like a natural brain failure." I gripped the paper. I looked at the list of chemicals. The names were long and complex, but the result was simple. "Wolf’s Bane extract—does it bleach?" I asked. "Nope. It doesn't. Not alone. "But with this…" she pointed at a text on the paper, "…and this mixed together, it bleaches. Or gives the bleach effect. Why do you ask?" "Nothing," I sa

“Your stuff’s in the closet. Uniforms, towels, bedding. They measured you from the hospital records. Everything should fit.” I opened the closet door. Rows of black blazers, white shirts, red ties, dark trousers—all in my exact size. The emblem on every breast pocket: the shield, the bat, the single blood-drop tear. Like the school was crying for something it already killed. Fresh towels stacked on the shelf. A pair of black boots on the floor. Even socks. Black, of course. I turned back to the box on the bed, flipped the lid. Inside: a sleek black phone, the BludHeaven logo etched into the back. No brand name, no model number—just the bat and the tear. A charger. A folded note on top.

Chapter 2 — Splash Jerkface Two Weeks Ago… Kallista Hughes stood in the bustling kitchen of Brio’s Kitchen, gripping the edge of the stainless-steel counter so hard her knuckles whitened. The sharp clatter of pans, the hiss of sautéing vegetables, and the murmurs of the kitchen staff filled the air, but none of it registered. All she could hear was Chef Alden’s voice, cold and hard cutting through the noise like a shard of ice.

Not what she had imagined Alpha Kai's daily view to be. She swung her bag onto the wooden floor by her feet and sat, watching him lean against his heavy desk opposite her. She took a glance at the bookshelf built into the wall behind him. A huge curved sword was hung in the centre of the space, its milk-white handle held a stunning contrast with the deep blue-black of the blade itself. She had never seen anything like it before; it looked razor-sharp and freshly polished. The books that she could see from where she sat were mostly about pack history and war tactics, spaced with little trinkets and photos of Alpha Kai with other pack members. It was odd seeing him looking so carefree and happ

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.

Liquidation is absolute. ​"The Apex Bloom is entering its third phase," Franco announced, his voice dropping into a lethal register. "The physical trials are over. The psychological games are over. Phase Three is total, unmitigated betrayal." ​The heavy steel doors that led back to the living quarters slammed shut with a deafening boom. Red emergency lights bathed the room in a bloody, pulsing glow.

"M_My p_purse is there..." I said, I can't lose it. I have my all important cards and medicines in that. "Ace will get it..." He answered taking out the white box. It must be a first aid kit. He cleaned my injury with cotton ball and tamed it with ointment. I couldn't help but look at him with admiration. I am confused about the emotions I am seeing in his eyes and on his face. He is probably the first person who is taking care of my wounds like this.

I let out a sharp breath and pushed the bedsheet away. “I really thought it was dye, I promise.” I defended myself, though not with much confidence, feeling quite confused. I truly believe that was bleach. I believed it was simply the natural shade of blue that would make it appear whiter. “Take a look,” she said, pulling out the bleach she had brought and opening it for me to see. It is nearly colorless, much like water. I trembled in disbelief; this was worse than anything I had ever experienced.

Cecilia rose to her feet. Her usual cool and aloof demeanor showed, but her eyes betrayed a hint of defiant tears. She snatched the lemon juice from Holly's arms, ready to down it in one go. Luke quickly moved, panic written all over him, "No, don't drink that. You can't drink cold drinks." He turned back, shooting Holly a glare that could freeze fire. It was the first time he had ever looked at her with such annoyance and revulsion.

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.