Blood Gang Bandana Novels & Stories

It's impressive, Alondra said with surprise, and she wasn't easily surprised. Then they placed a simple dress on my shoulders, made of light, almost silver fabric. It wasn't an ostentatious dress, but it had small embroideries with ancient symbols of the pack: crescent moons, intertwined claws, and oak branches. In the center was a Blood Moon symbolizing the name of the pack. “The embroidery represents protection,” Isa explained naturally with a big smile. “And it also represents belonging.” That was like a warm bath for my heart. Then they did my makeup and gave me the finishing touches, so when they were done, I took a deep breath.

It’s like they had their own personal blood bank with how much was in here! Each one was marked with what kind of creature it was from and I closed the door back fearing that if I stared any longer that I would find details of a human on one of the bags. The thought of drinking blood still seemed unappetizing even if it wasn’t as bad as I was expecting last night. But I don’t want to accidentally drink someone else’s blood and risk one of the vampires here being angry with me.

The cut was black leather in color with the white stitched patches which included the gang's name itself in full view as it draped along the chair. The emblem of a vicious howling black wolf with white eyes and snarling teeth bordered around a bright white moon with the name HOWLER MC. written in stitch form around the visual. The bearded man glanced at his cut and continued to make his way toward the brightly lit bathroom as the sun had burst through the small window above the shower and illuminated the entire room causing him to wince from the view once he stepped inside while his eyes adjusted to his newly lit surroundings.

You survived them. The café’s door chimed as people came and went, laughter drifting in. I stared at the window, at a group of teenagers who shoved each other playfully, carefree, untouchable. “I wish I could disappear,” I whispered. “Start over somewhere far away. Where I’m not the daughter of a mafia boss. Where I’m not about to marry a monster.” Gia reached for my hand, her grip firm. “Then let’s do it. I would help you, Bella. We could figure something out—”

He’d been cut open from side to side, a kill wound and Dominic knew the intestines around his neck were just for show. It was a message, but he had no idea what that message was. It was a brutal kill, savagely done, and he felt a shiver creeping down his spine. Chances were that he’d bled out, between the castration and his intestines being ripped out, he’d stood no chance. “Any ideas?” Jimmy asked him. “The intestines around his neck feels like it should be a message, but I don’t know what it means. We don’t do marks like this. This wasn’t famiglia, at least, it doesn’t feel like it,” Dominic said.

He opened his locker and pulled out a greyish blue bandanna, holding it up for me to see. “May I?” he asked, gesturing to my hand that I was still holding up to my chest. I looked down at my hand and looked at the bandanna. I glanced up at his face, he was still smiling. So, I nodded and held out my hand. He slowly placed my jumper over my shoulder and I resisted the urge to flinch at his movements, then he carefully began to wrap his bandanna around the cut on my hand.

Something worse. He nodded at my hoodie. “You’re leaking crimson, gatita (kitten).” I glanced down. A red stain bloomed where Freddy had clawed my ribs. “It’s nothing.” “Nothing’s still something.” He handed me a bandana—black, smelling of motor oil. “Wrap it.” “Why? You collecting favors?” He paused, voice like gravel, “Favors rot. Bloodstains don’t.” I snort out, “Poetic. You moonlight as a funeral director?”

Challenge for challenge. “I do,” Alessio said, voice clear, almost mocking. The judge hurried through the rest. Rings—thick platinum bands, plain and heavy—were produced from Luca’s pocket. Luca slid Alessio’s on first. His fingers were warm, grip firm, lingering just a fraction too long. Alessio’s turn. He took Luca’s hand—large, scarred knuckles, calluses from guns and fists—and pushed the ring on slowly. Deliberately. Luca’s jaw tightened.

But it was over. The flag of the South Wing—simple, silver-stitched—was torn down from the central watchtower. In its place, my banner rose. Deep crimson with the jagged mark of my family. The mark of Shadow Blood. Cheers rang out from my warriors as they planted it high. The blood on the ground hadn’t even dried.

Darren exited the prison cell and ordered the soldiers to continue the whipping work. Darren stood in front of the frowning Vander. "Brother, scratch my right hand." He passed the knife to Vander. Vander glared. He had no heart to scratch the knife into his brother's body. Even though Darren sucks, Darren is his younger brother. "I don't want to." Nancy clicked her tongue. "I'll do it." Noura chuckled. "Don't scrape the vein, Nancy." "I couldn't have killed him." Nancy scraped Darren's palm with a knife. "Half-blood has a different blood." Nancy was surprised to see Darren's black blood color with reddish spots. Nancy put the knife back in Darren's shirt pocket.