Novel & Cerita Blood On The Streets The Doors

Broken. Crying. I spin toward it. There—in the back corner, a metal door with a heavy padlock. "Luna!" I'm running, slamming my shoulder into the door. It doesn't budge. "LUNA!" "Here!" An officer with bolt cutters rushes over. "Stand back." The lock breaks with a sharp crack. I yank the door open. The smell hits me first. Blood and infection and something sweet-rotten that makes my stomach turn.

“Go home. Lock your doors. Don’t come back to this alley .” I take a step toward him . “And if I don’t ?” He freezes , then turns slowly, silver eyes narrowing . “Then you die .” My stomach drops , and I stumble back as the blood on the ground starts to move . I swear it writhes like a living thing , rippling across the concrete toward my sneakers . “Uh… guy? The blood… it’s moving.” He freezes, muscles rigid, eyes wide . “Fuck .” “‘Fuck?’” I repeat, voice rising. “Not helpful!”

“A stor is home, Baby.” No answer. I take two steps, three, pressure mounting in my wrists. “You’re scaring me,” I pause in front of our bedroom. The door is wide open. I hear the creak of the door. The sinister groan of the ceiling fan. Then I see it—blood—thick and red, smeared on the doorframe. The walls. Harry’s gun lies at the entrance, the bullets scattered across the tile. “Baby!” I charge into the room, shouldering the bathroom door open.

It coats the back of my throat. Doors line both sides of the corridor — most open, revealing empty rooms. Too empty. No hunters. No guards. No voices. It’s wrong. This place has been cleared out, like they knew we were coming. Finally, two doors from the end, the scent is so strong it nearly knocks me over. Blood. Sweat. Jake doesn’t hesitate. He slams his boot into the lock. The door bursts inward.

TARR A sudden explosion reverberated through the silent halls. The once-sturdy foyer doors were blasted open with a thunderous force, the echoes of the explosion resonating through the pillars of the grand mansion. Smoke billowed into the entrance, momentarily obscuring my view. Sweat trickled down my forehead. I slowly turned my head behind my shoulder. The doors, now reduced to twisted remnants of their former strength, hung precariously on their hinges. The vampires, their eyes gleaming with malevolence, emerged from the dissipating smoke, stepping over the threshold into the mansion's foyer. The scent of burning wood mixed with the metallic tang of the earlier battle outside. The remnant

Slipping the chip of my card on the sensor, the door pushes open to red stains on the white floor. It forms a pool and drags along in scary circles. Blood?!!

Astrid had gone into a frozen state as Selene cried out in pain mingled with terror, the blood trailing down her legs in bursts of extremely dark red clots. “Help me, Astrid! Please! My baby!” Selene’s voice, perhaps because this time it was directed at Astrid, brought Astrid out of her shocked state as she rushed down to get help from the security guards stationed outside. “We need help in getting to the hospital, now!” she screamed as she got out of the house, the men clad in black clothing rushing in to follow her into Selene’s room, where she was sluggishly attempting to get up through the mess that was her blood.

When I looked up, my heart pounded at the sight of familiar eyes across the gate. He didn't look shock. But when he stopped and in the darkness of looking at me, I knew. Then his eyes turned darker, anger etched in those. He didn't even bother to get an umbrella or anything. He walked straight towards the gate even though it was already wet in the rain. I watched how he moved precisely and urgently. I want to close my eyes in fatigue but I prefer to look at him. "What the fuck are you doing, Audrey ?!" His voice thundered.

Press the button for the ground floor. The ride down is twenty seconds at most. I stand there watching the numbers drop and telling myself I’m overreacting. That she’s fine. That she’s Raven and she has always been fine. The doors open. I step out. And the world ends. She is on the ground. Face up on the pavement just beyond the lobby doors, a pool of blood spreading dark and fast beneath her, her bag torn open beside her. A taxi tears around the corner at the end of the street and disappears.

Sammi drove like the city owed her the road. Dawn cut the sky into pale ribs, the streets thin and empty while the rest of the world pressed snooze. We slipped through the hospital’s back corridors the way we always did—hoods up, footsteps soft, pockets rehearsed. “No incidents,” Sammi whispered, like saying it out loud might jinx the calm. “No witnesses,” I answered.