Blood Debts Novels & Stories

"Blood of the Wise is a very rare wine, Your Highness. It's one of our collection, but we only have one..." Fear was evident on Orion's voice but he sounded like he was implying that he can't give it to us because it's the only one. "I'm willing to pay. How much?" Demitri got something on his pocket, a pouch of gold I suppose, and it fell down before Orion's feet. "We can give you more if you want. Just give us the wine," Prince David said.

“Severe withdrawal symptoms... frequent hospitalizations for overdose. So that’s where she’s been. Chasing the ghost of a high while we were chasing the sun.” The irony was a physical blow. Robbin pulled back, pacing the small space between the desk and the wall. "She’s not just looking for a payday. She’s looking for back pay. She’s calculated exactly what she’s owed in blood and time." The silence returned, but it was no longer heavy; it was electric. The twenty-four-hour clock wasn't just ticking—it was screaming. The blue light of the monitors in the study suddenly felt like the cold, clinical glow of a morgue.

Something in the forest seemed to react to it, the shadows shifting, the wind whispering through the trees. Kael’s jaw tightened. “This is… against every law,” he muttered. “It cannot happen. It shouldn’t happen.” Rowan’s gaze remained on Aria, unwavering, calculating. “Yet it has,” he said quietly. “There’s no denying it. The bond is here.” Dante’s lips curved into a wicked smile, though his eyes burned with something deeper. “Looks like someone’s in trouble,” he murmured, circling her again, slow, deliberate, as if savoring the tension.

It was about this the ability to change the math for a generation that hadn't even been born when the first bullet was fired. "We did it, Julian," Dante whispered, taking the gold key from my hand and tucking it into his pocket. "The debt is officially settled." "Not settled, Dante," I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. "Reinvested. We took the blood and turned it into ink. And for the first time in my life, I don't feel like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

One day, Dad called me, his voice low and solemn as he said, "Daphne, Lucille's father and brother were beaten to death overseas by their former subordinates." They had tried to force Lucille's father and brother to hand over money, but they simply didn't have enough to give. In the end, the mob went wild and beat them to death. Hearing this, I thought it was truly brutal. But thinking about it, I felt like it all made sense. They had killed Chase, and now, they were killed by their own men. Perhaps this was karma.

“Rich family. Paralyzed son. Paying twenty grand a month for a live-in caregiver and they can’t keep anyone longer than a week. His mother’s been through, what, eight caregivers in the last six months? Nine?” My hand tightens around my coffee cup. Twenty thousand. “Why not?” Renee asks. “Because he’s impossible.” Shauna dumps her coffee in the sink. “Won’t talk. Won’t let anyone touch him. Apparently he just sits in that mansion and makes everyone miserable.” Beth winces. “That’s sad.” Shauna grabs her bag. “They’re desperate though. Six month contract. One-twenty total if you can stick it out but I bet anyone can make it that far.”

“Leave her out of this. She’s innocent.” “No one is innocent in a blood debt. She’s scheduled for a follow-up procedure Thursday. Very expensive. Very delicate. Without it, her new valve could fail within forty-eight hours.” I finally saw the monster beneath the tailored suit. “You wouldn’t.” “I would,” he said flatly. “I could move her to a state facility by morning. Replace her doctors with interns. Or I could make sure she has the best surgeons in the world.” The room tilted. I grabbed a chair to steady myself.

“Lucky. Missed the artery by an inch.” “Small mercies,” Declan muttered, but his eyes had already moved past Marco, cataloguing the room, the blood on the floor, the cracked plaster where he’d driven a man’s skull into the wall. I recognized the look. It was the same one he wore in every negotiation I’d watched him conduct since the wedding — filing away every detail, building a ledger of what this night had cost him and what it was going to cost the Ghost in return. Luca arrived twenty minutes later, breathless, his tie askew like he’d dressed in the car. He took one look at the foyer and swore under his breath in a mix of English and something older. “I got the call. Tell me what happened.

You have been abiding too long with ghosts. "Humour me," I said calmly. "Before my patience runs out." He examined me at the edge of his glass. "You're asking about old money. Blood money. Before you were ready to rule." "And yet it still moves," I said. "Quietly." Vittorio leaned back. Dino, everything old is still breathing. You are the one who should know that, of all people. I leaned forward slightly. "Was it yours?" His smile was broad and very gradual. "Why ask me?"