Blitzo Helluva Boss Novels & Stories

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.

Having that as precedent gave Thunder's quartet the confidence to attack Frank. But to Thunder's shock, Frank's breathing was regular and his speech composed. Forget being hurt—he was not even breathing heavily, while Galen and Blaze were killed. "Boss, you're finally here… H-Help!" In the distance, Bolt was panting even as he dashed toward Thunder, still carrying his explosives with him. The lady in white silk continued chasing after him and stopped to level a cool glare at Thunder. "Hmm. So you're his boss?"

“Good night, Gabriel. It’s impossible to talk to you tonight. Kisses.” “Good night, woman with indecisive eyes.” She hung up. And she did as he said. She needed a good night’s sleep. A break. The next morning, Zoe was at a glittering business event packed with billionaires. She couldn’t resist. She discreetly aimed her phone at Thor and recorded a thirty-second video. Then she sent it to Celina with a caption: “For all his arrogance, the Big Boss is gorgeous. Look at what you’re missing, girl. He’s a hit, you know?”

I’m sure this time, he would wish he possessed the powers to disappear. “It’s you… Owen Vitmoz. The man with the scared face. The man whom no man dares to cross. What… what kind of hell have I walked into?” He cried. “My hell indeed” I chuckled, letting my fingers play with his jaw. “She must have promised you that no one would find out about what you two were about to do. Tsk. You had believed in her words thinking of the huge amount of money you would receive. Turned out the plan is about to destroy you”