Blood Gang Bandana Novels & Stories

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.

An arrow with a red rose as its tail. The same symbol of the most notorious gang in Nigeria; The Blood Arrows.

I was given sandals to wear and a blue scrunchy to hold my hair up. "Rules," A fat Blood woman said to me in the meanest tone. I kept my face down. "You cannot eat with us in our lounge. You are not allowed to use any of our facilities here. You are not to speak or mingle with Blood staff beyond your job description. You are not allowed makeup, and you cannot date or be seen with Bloods. Am I clear," she asked. "Yes," I replied. "Yes, Mistress," she corrected me. "Yes, Mistress," I corrected myself, and she left.