Blood And Money Novels & Stories

“Social media’s eating itself. Financial blogs are debating your ‘strategic rawness.’ Some think you’re brilliant. Some think you’re suicidal.” “And you?” Gareth sipped his coffee. “I think you did exactly what someone in your position is never supposed to do.” “Which is?” “Make a move that doesn’t make immediate sense.” Noah leaned back, rubbing the heel of his palm into one tired eye. The adrenaline had worn off. What remained was exhaustion — the kind that didn’t sit in your muscles but in your spine. “She’s going to come for me harder now,” he said. “Lena?”

I mean, they have other children who can help with their retirement. All they want is money, money, money. Money is more important than family. Is money more important than their granddaughters? The blood money was an exchange for their son and daughter-in-law’s lives. Don’t they have any consideration for their son and daughter-in-law with all that fuss about money? Oh, I guess they don’t care about the dead since Mom and Dad are gone.

The gun tightened in my hand without me thinking. He didn’t flinch. “Not a collector. A shepherd. Make him understand he’s in danger if he doesn’t. Tell him—truthfully or not—that the Blood Moon have eyes for men who can’t pay. That men who owe blood don’t have many tomorrows.” He tapped the table, slow and deliberate. “If the money doesn’t come, the Blood Moon will come for him.” The name hit harder than I expected. Blood Moon. Assassins. If they took a contract, there’d be no bargaining, no bargaining chips left to trade.

My heart sank. "However," Nico's tone shifted, and he pulled the stack of bank statements closer, "there's a lot more to this. You used far more than the little profit from what your father left. These streets have been in the red for years, and the extra money you put in…" "Almost two million dollars. This is your blood money. Your personal "gift."" "Gift?" I repeated the word, tasting the bitterness. "Yes, a unilateral gift," Nico leaned forward. "For him to keep this money, you would have to prove he used fraud to get it. Otherwise, by the code of the street, a gift is a gift. Not a loan."

I pried it open, and there it was. Stacks of money. Not drug cash. Old bills, euros, dollars, even gold coins. Blood money. Russo’s rainy-day stash. Worth millions. And in that moment, everything in me changed. I knew what Antonioni would say… Take the men, leave the cash. The Shadow King didn’t want a war. But me? I saw my chance. My freedom. “Lorenzo, what are you doing?” Antonioni hissed in my earpiece. I delayed. I hesitated. Greed made me blind.

One aspect of being human I’m glad I never have to deal with. The street is lined with buildings all packed closely together, but I’m only interested in one. The one that reads ‘Banca del Sangue’. All around the world I have set up blood banks run by sanguidae, for sanguidae. They can come whenever they are in need of supply, and magic on each building keeps them protected and ensures sanguidae don’t try raiding the supply.

"It was the first time in my life I wasn't being paid with blood money." "Blood money," Helena repeated, letting out a dry, clicking laugh that didn't reach her face. "You children and your dramatics. Caspian, tell her what the Northcrest fund actually did. Tell her how many families would be living in tents if my husband hadn't stabilized the regional banks after her father’s little meltdown."

“I am going to ruin every single one of you until you beg for that atonement.” “You can’t do this. The company-” “It is built on blood money and under-the-table business deals. The second trouble comes, investors and anyone affiliated with half a brain will run. You won’t even be able to put in the paperwork for your unemployment before that plaque is off that wall.” “The enemies you’ll have.”

To stop a bloody turf war between Melbourne's most powerful crime families, Jarrah "The Warden" Calaby is forced into an arranged marriage with Malia Kilsyth. Malia hates him with every fiber of her being convinced that Jarrah’s family ordered the hit that murdered her older brother years ago. On their wedding night, Malia hides a blade beneath her pillow, waiting for the cold-blooded Don to sleep so she can end his life. But Jarrah catches her wrist in the dark, laying down a startling contract: fake a happy marriage for six months to fool their enemies, and he will grant her absolute freedom, complete protection, and millions to disappear forever. As assassination attempts mount, Jar

If I offered you a million dollars for your blood, would you say no? "Name your price—hell, I bet you'd sell every organ in your body. You're just milking Vincent's love for a payday." "I'm a person, not a product," I said. "Why do you people act like money buys everything—even my emotions, my soul?" Emma sneered. "You're nothing. If you didn't have my blood type, you'd never have gotten near the upper class. "Let me spell it out—Vincent only saw you as my personal blood bank. Every time I needed a transfusion, he drained you for me.