Blood Money Hitman Walkthrough Novels & Stories

I turn around and march into my bedroom, hopping into the shower immediately to rid myself of the blood and sweat from the past fifty-two hours. I hate dealing with hitmen. Mainly because they know how to keep their god-damn mouth sealed tight. Leo and Sergio had been the ones who found the real hitman with the help of Gregory. They’d spent time trying to get the hitman to talk, but he never did until I showed up. All it had taken was one quick look through his personal phone which was not easy to find, and I found an email from the bank for a sum too large to ignore.

Utilizing the unique shadow movement passed down through my father’s hybrid bloodline, I launched my frame over the top of the crumbling rock face, completely dissolving my physical profile into the swirling gray sleet. The mercenary on the left didn't even have time to adjust his tracking HUD. I materialized directly within his blind spot, my large, calloused hand locking around the throat seal of his matte-black suit. With a brutal, single-minded twist, I drove his heavy body down onto the jagged edge of a limestone protrusion, the fiberglass of his helmet fracturing with a sharp report that signaled the end of his transmission.

Damien's piercing amber eyes locked on her, a menacing snarl twisting his lupine features as if he could sense her reticence. A shudder ran through Kiera's slender frame. She averted her gaze, wishing she could somehow escape this inescapable fate. The priestess's chanting rose to a feverish climax as the assembled pack members howled in ceremonial union. With a sudden slice, the blade opened a deep gash across Damien's calloused palm. His thick crimson life essence poured into the ceremonial goblet, hissing as it mingled with the sacred herbs and oils. "Kiera of the Rivermist Pack," the priestess's reedy voice carried through the torchlit cave. "Extend your hand and partake of the Blood Bon

Instead, I dropped my bag to the ground and headed right out. After strolling on some rooftops, I eventually went down a street called Muerte Road. Which meant death road. Only to realise that my prey was taking it is time walking to where I needed it to be. So, I went back up on the rooftop and watched it walk. I felt much like an eagle in this moment as my eyes stalked their prey. After a few minutes of gazing the grounds, I saw the figure move down into Muerte Road still on the phone talking animatedly. I then jumped down and sped up to meet my first victim upfront. To my disappointment it was a guy, and he was not even an O-blood type but a standard AB positive. I then proceeded to step

I walked downstairs only to be met with gunfire, they were missing me by a long shot but it was fun to mess around with them, I walked around and was behind them when they stopped shooting. "D-did we get him?" "No, I don't think ya did," I said and smashed their skulls together, knocking them out cold, "Now, let's get that cash," I said and walked through the vault door, and kicked down the smaller gate to be met with pile after pile of cash. I opened our bags and started filling them with cash, only to hear the opening of gunfire above me, hastening my looting. "JAKEY! YA MIGHT WANNA HURRY UP DOWN THERE!" Jack yelled from the stairwell as I grabbed the last wad of cash and made my way towar

Dead, the stunned grunt fall forwards, crashing into the small fountain, turning the water into red, and the peeing boy statues now turned eerie, it’s no longer peeing water but blood. “INTRUDER!!!..HITMAN IN THE MANSION!!!!…”. The loud gunshots and the sound of fallen dead bodies has alerted the whole mansion. Sounds of rumbling footsteps echoes through out the whole mansion, I slowly and steady climbs the stairs leading to the 1st floor. As I reached the first floor, I stumbled into one of the grunts who have his gun already in front of him. “FOUND!!....”. (Grunt)

Like saying it out loud is its own kind of relief. "Don't talk," I say. I put my hands on him. The Moonblood knows what to do. I don't have to direct it or manage it or be afraid of it. It moves through me the way it has been waiting to move — not forced, not pushed, simply allowed. It finds the powder's trace in his blood the way light finds the edges of things in a dark room. Not by force. By nature. By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden.

I finished the rum in my glass and placed it back on the table. "Find an asshole that deserves to die; put a hunt on his head; say something like he killed your kid or your brother, and you cannot seem to get over it even though it happened ten, nine, or eight years ago; take your pick. Put a reasonable sum of money that is worth the job, then tell them that after the job, the money will be collected in cash, as it was not gotten through legal means. Put it there that you will give the killer who did it a code, and if they say the code that day, they get the money. The job should be valid for four weeks, then clean it off the internet." "How are you sure he will take the job?" Jim asked me.

“What about the money? I’m not paying triple again after your last failure.” “Twenty million flat,” the hitman said, shrugging. “Half now, half after Elias is in the ground. And this time, my men won’t hesitate. Even if Damien is nearby, we’ll wait for the right moment.” I stopped pacing and turned to face him. “You swear this will work? If Damien even suspects I’m involved…” The hitman laughed. “Then you’re fucked, rich boy. But that’s why we’re being careful. We make the rival the scapegoat. You stay clean. Your father keeps loving his golden son, and you finally get rid of the bastard who’s been breathing down your neck.”

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?"