Blood Money Hitman Walkthrough Novels & Stories

I asked, unwilling to touch someone else's stuff. "She is dead.," he answered, and I was afraid. "Your duty is simple. Clean all the toilets in the night when the Bloods have gone to bed and serve and work in the kitchen and dinning hall in the morning when the Bloods are having breakfast. You have the rest of the hours to yourself. Do not wander to the Blood section, or you will be punished. If caught more than three times, severe actions will be taken against you. Your guardian will receive your wages. You can go to them to collect money for your upkeep. The pack will not provide anything for you other than your wages. Am I clear?" he asked, and I nodded, knowing I was in a deep mess. How

His face only fueled my anger. And then I struck, ripping his throat out with my jaws, not stopping until his body went still. The life had left his eyes, his body coated in his own blood. My jaws dripped with his blood as I heaved breaths from my rampage. There was no feeling of sympathy in me as I gazed at his sunken state. Footsteps sounded behind me, and with the help of my heightened senses, I turned back quickly and attacked. I must have missed one of the hunters.

"South exit is clear." "Marco's team moving in from the north," Marco himself said. "We've got him contained." The hitman was backing toward the exit now, blood blooming across his dark jacket. He was reaching for something else—a backup weapon, maybe, or a communication device. I didn't give him the chance. I moved forward, fast and lethal, and brought the butt of my gun down toward his head. He tried to dodge, but he was already wounded, already panicking. The impact connected with a sickening crack.

Hunters like him rarely were. He was slumped against the front tire, coughing up thick blood onto the pavement. His grey coat—probably worth more than most people’s cars—was torn to pieces. When he heard my footsteps, his hand twitched toward the silver-plated. I stepped on his wrist before he could reach it. Bone ground against asphalt beneath my boot. He sucked in a sharp breath and looked up at me. Even bleeding out on the side of the road, his eyes were calculating. “Save your strength, Heather,” I said calmly. “If I wanted you dead, your head would already be rolling down the road.

I soaked in the bath, watching the blood swirl down the drain, lost in the luxury around me. As I lay in the water, I realized just how wealthy the victim must have been to afford such extravagance. Afterward, I searched for the mansion, finding a stash of safes filled with cash. Opening one, I nearly laughed out loud at the sea of money spilling onto the floor. I had made my first fortune, and if my target was this wealthy, the client who hired me was likely worth much more. Delivering the severed head of my target to the client in a polished box, I said, “The job’s done.”

“Now, Mancini, you're going to tell me where you keep all your money. At least pay up before you switch sides." “Yes, yes. It's in the safety box. There's a hidden compartment under that counter." He pointed behind us. I dragged us slowly to behind the counter and then made as if to grab the money but at the last minute, I shot the remaining two men and then put a bullet in Mancini's knee. “You should thank God I forgive. I'll choose to believe you were forced into doing this, now pay the fuck up." “Yes ma'am!" Mancini cried out as he scrambled to get the money. It was a lot. Good. After putting it all in a duffel bag, I turned around and began walking away, listening to Mancini's whimpers o

Before he can flee the scene and run until none of the Cartels can find him, he enter the small room. The stagnant air hits him first, making him nauseous with the smell of blood and betrayal. In the middle sits Harley with his head hanging limp from his neck, his hair covering his face. The boy is covered in sweat and blood, the deep black strands sticking to his skin. His hands are bound behind his back, straining his arms painfully. The hitman drags his feet until he is face to face with the only man he has ever loved, and he wants to cry. Harley’s breathing is strained, a high pitched whistle echoing every time he inhales and exhales.

Hayden kissed her cheek. Dorian was getting excited. He was onto something. Simon kept meticulous records, but they were buried where most people wouldn't think to look. Now he just needed to trace the money to who hired him. As he broke through each firewall that was put up, he knew he was getting closer. When he finally found the payer for the hitman, he couldn't believe what he was reading. "I found who hired him, and they have the same name," Dorian said, looking at Hayden.

“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.

Devren stops in front of Blood’s room putting the bag of money outside and walks inside the room silently. Blood is laying on the bed sleeping peacefully with his shirt off, Devren walks towards the bed and sits there carefully to not make Blood wake up. His eyes start to tear up as he stares at him and the pain is so visible in his eyes, he touches Blood hair and brushes it with his hand carefully.