Blitzo Helluva Boss Novels & Stories

"While I clean your face, you'll answer my questions," Dagger says. I have my own question and it centers on the tattoo. I shake off the empathy the artwork invokes. The tone of Dagger's voice helps. Harsh and demanding has never worked in anyone's favor when dealing with me. Mr. Boss Man is about to find out that pushing my buttons is not going to work. "And if I don't?" It would have sounded tough if I hadn't winced when the cloth touched the edge of the cut on my forehead.

She was there… Billy could feel Stephie’s heartbeat… His woman was there, waiting to be saved from that freak hands. “I’m here, my love… I’m right here… Just breathe and think of me. Don’t let that bastard get under your skin. Hang on, baby! I’m coming to save you,” Billy whispered while looking for the house. The rain was pouring, but he couldn’t care less. After what he saw on that video, after seeing her tied up, blindfolded, and gagged, Billy just snapped. That son of a dick won’t live another second after he's going to put his hands on him.

"Am I dreaming? I was talking to him face-to-face, right? How can I be glitching?" Bell rolls her eyes at him. "You should should know not to listen to my idiot brother by now." I shrug at Max when looks at me next. "For once, your bossy girlfriend's got a point." Bell huffs and shoots me a glare filled with attitude. I'm really on her case today. "Toy, Simo tell you four times, Simo don't know what bland ice cream is!" Simo, frustrated, yells at Troy in his usual, squeaky voice. "What color?"

You don't get to be attracted to the human embodiment of Eastern Bloc tension. Dmitri wasn't charming, he was carved. Like a cold war statue someone accidentally brought to life and handed a child. This wasn't butterflies. This was neurological betrayal. Whatever this was pinging through her, heat, adrenaline, whatever—needed to go straight back to whatever hormonal void it crawled out of. She was not here for cheekbones and frostbite flirtation. She was here for a paycheck. Juice boxes. Healing a small, silent girl. Not panting over broody Bond villains in cashmere armor.

“Tonight I swore in front of the public to feal you forever, and I tattooed your name on my back so that all the females of the earth would know that I belong to you alone.” “Yes, and despite all this, you have to pay the price for what has passed. You will prove to me that you are loyal to me alone, and in the meantime, you will not reach me and you will not approach another female. You will cleanse yourself and your body from the effects of every female I have touched, and then after that you will come to me panting, willing, and you will not see anyone but me in this universe.” “Now I see no one but you, and I promise I will never betray you.”

And the oldest, Giacomo, grey temples, Roman accent thick as supplì—his own countryman, inside for life since the Banda della Magliana days. They watched Vito the way wolves watch a new dog enter the pen. Giacomo flicked his cigarette away and walked over, slow, no hurry. “Vito Andolini,” he said, voice low. “They told me the Boss finally arrived. Thought you’d be taller.” Vito met his eyes. “They told you wrong. I’m not the boss of anything anymore.” Giacomo smiled without warmth. “In here, everyone’s something. Question is what you’re willing to pay to become it again.”

"And see how I punish bad people." She nodded while folding her hands and placing finger on her lips. Damon's face turned hard again while extending his hand and his bodyguard placed knife on his palm. "One last time, who is your boss?" He sliced his index finger which pulled the trigger on him. His men were impressed by his way of handling his wife, they have never seen him so patient with anyone. "I don't know, I swear.... I just got the money and your details... I haven't seen his face... Please, trust me!"

One of the men opened his robe and, with the assistance of another man, pulled it off and raised his gloved hands to the sky before making the sign of the cross upon himself as a Catholic follower would. “His challenger this week” the referee bellowed out as he pointed toward the other man in the ring in a black robe. “Alaric Carter!” My heart skipped as Alaric stepped forward with another man with the ends of his dark hair dyed blonde. The man helped Alaric pull his robe off and my jaw dropped. His bare chest was hard and toned. Tattoos spotted all along his bare chest and arms. His long hair was pulled back into a messy man bun.

After hearing what Blaze had to say, King Sandros looked shocked. “You’ve been to the Hell Tower’s ninth level? “You came back unscathed?” Blaze said, “What’s so difficult? The first nine levels of hell contained minions. I turned all of them into ashes with my invincible flame.” King Sandros pursed his lips. He did have first-hand experience with the power of Blaze’s flame. If Blaze did not have that kind of annoying flame, he would have killed him in no time.

He was Blaze Harper, and he would do anything to save their Clique. As he started to recollect his memories of Blaze Harper's father, he had unleashed a maximum powered blast, that made the huge man in front of him shrieking in pain and agony. He cannot move, nor his opponent after that. With that, he finished the man in front of him, until a small sphere rolled towards his feet. It looked like a pulse bomb that was black in color. He instantly know what it was without even seeing it from anywhere —Neo Belleza. He kneeled on the ground out of exhaustion. He felt the wind blowing his body as he closed his eyes.