Blood And Money の小説・ストーリー

He turned and glared at the other one who was still seated. "Where is my money, little Thawne?" I snapped my eyes back to the Handsome...Did I say handsome? When I left Snow Hill for New York, I found out a secret. On my dead father wanted to hide forever. He had used me as collateral. He borrowed some money from Alexander Tyrone, a man who was known all over the streets and probably the whole world. A Mafia Leader, not just any Mafia. The Italian Mafia as a whole. When he visited me one day, I stabbed him in the leg and ran off with just a measly fifty dollars.

“But we were also partners. Secretly. Nobody knew.” Dante frowned. “Partners?”Dirty dealings that couldn't be done openly. Arms trafficking, money laundering, and bribing politicians. Everything that sustained both families for years. Vittorio took a sip. When Salvatore died, those businesses were left hanging. And someone has been using them. Who? I don't know. But I know that someone wants to destroy what's left of both families. Moretti and Santi. And they're using our own weapons. Elena interjected: Why are you telling us this?

Blood sprayed in a bright, hot arc across the table. The girl made one last wet, gurgling sound—half sob, half plea that filled the sudden silence like a broken bellows. Blood poured from the ragged gash across her throat in thick, pulsing waves, first splashing across the black oak table, then running into the his cup. Several Alphas gasped audibly; one chair scraped backward as someone instinctively recoiled. Others remained frozen, eyes wide, hands hovering near weapons they knew they would never draw.

So I grabbed my teddy bear and walked down the stairs. When I came into the kitchen, I didn't saw my daddy and my mommy standing there, arguing and fighting. I just saw my mommy laying on the floor in a puddle of blood. The red liquid was coming out of her belly and flooded around her. Her eyes were wide open and her brown hair had become red of her blood. I whispered her name and grabbed her hand as I knelt next to her. The tears were falling down my cheeks like a waterfall. Her blood was now on my white pajamas. My hands were painted with her blood as I tried to shake her awake.

“Miles, it’s me, call me back please just call me back and tell me what’s going on.” I hang up and stare at the screen, willing it to light up with his name, with some explanation for that text. Another message comes through instead. ‘Don’t call. Just send money. $500. Please.’ The ice bag slips off my knee and hits the floor but I don’t pick it up. Five hundred dollars. I don’t have five hundred dollars, not right now, not with everything else I’m paying for, and even if I did I know exactly what he needs it for and it’s not something I can enable.

"Don't expect a single cent from me. Let's see how you're going to pull this off." Brian chimed in from the side, grinning. "Exactly! No money, and you still want to go to college? Winterford Institute of Technology? Keep dreaming!" I ignored him and pulled a heavy metal box out from under my bed. Inside was a stack of cash. Ones, fives, tens, and twenties, with a few hundred-dollar bills mixed in, piled into a small mound. Every dollar I had ever earned. Paid for with sweat, bruises, and whatever pride I had left, starting from elementary school.

This feels like hate. The money sits in my bank account like a silent accusation. Blood money. Hush money. Payment for my absence, for my silence. I told myself I took it because there was no other choice. Because I had nothing left, nowhere to go. I told myself it was survival, not surrender. But standing here, surrounded by the ruins, I wonder if that’s just another lie I’ve been feeding myself to sleep at night. Maybe I did sell out. Maybe I did exactly what they wanted. And the worst part? It doesn’t even feel like survival. It feels like drowning with my eyes open.

She tutored like a teacher explaining the human anatomy to her student I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, she chipped in again. “Or you want to report us to banks to lock our accounts? The same bank that knows most of our revenue comes from people's blood, lives, and sometimes sweat? The same banks we've stuffed money down their throat to shut them up? Or you want to put it on national news? The same ones we've bribed.” She got down from the desk, restless, stepping forward.

All of that started because of greed and being blinded by the value of money. It seems that we don't just need water, food or air to continue living, but also every number that equates to our future. It can change our destiny and it can also change a person's personality. In an instant, his outlook on life will suddenly disappear and change because of what we call, MONEY. Greedy, robber, deceitful, filthy, proud, oppressive, sinful and evil. How far will the equivalent of the amount you need go? To the point of bloodshed? or until you realize it?

Nothing getting through. His eyes narrow at me a small glint of silver shining through. I grit my teeth together refusing to budge when he finally stuffs a hand in his back pocket. He pulls out a wallet on a chain and pulls out two hundreds and a fifty dollar bill. He flashes me a stunning white smile his eyes already back to their original forest green color. I already have my folder back open pulling on the B+ paper as he slides the money into the folder pocket and taking the paper from my hand reading it over.