Blood On The Streets The Doors Novels & Stories

“Keep squirming, Sid. I’m coming for you both, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it. The Streets are mine. You hear me? Mine.” The crowd cheered. Sid and Mark glared at me. Evelyn whispered something in Mark’s ear. I didn’t give a damn. Let them scramble and try to come out ahead. They would fail. I would make sure of it. I stood at the back door of the Jeep. Benji cracked open his less swollen eye and peered at me. Blood vessels had burst in the whites of his eyes. I rested a hand on his shoulder. “Sorry it took me so long to get to you, man.”

If the Board was going to send reinforcements to stop Lisa, they would come through here. I reached the heavy steel doors and set my bag down. I didn’t have much time. Julian was back in the van with Maya, fighting a losing battle against a fading heartbeat, and Lisa was alone in a room full of ghosts. My job was simple: hold the door. I pulled two claymore mines from my pack and rigged them to the elevator frame. I didn’t want to bring the whole building down—not yet—but I needed a greeting card that would make them hesitate. Thrum.

I turn around and resume my walk to the entrance. I hold my gun tightly, ready to fire at any motherfucker that dares escape Tom's and the rest of the men's bullets. I kick the door open with my foot and stare at the well-lit hallway. The walls and floor are covered in blood, and bodies are littered everywhere in all corners of the hallway. I drag my feet across the hallway, soaking my shoes in blood. I walk calmly until I get to a door at the far end of the long hallway.

Mila shouts from the cell across from where I'm standing. These doors are locked using keys instead of security bars. I walk back to Daniels, his blood making a beautiful van Gough piece of art on the gray cement. No, we do not play in blood, I make clear when our nose goes into the air and Ms. Beast licks her lips at the tang. Her sharp growl echoes off the walls. Keys, I remind her. The keys are in Daniels's dead fist. It takes some work to make my claws cooperate and remove the keys without ripping off the hand. With a last look at the blood pooled around him, I head back into the hall. Sorry, Ms. Beast, we don't eat humans.

My eyes zeroing in on the floor, chunks of concrete were broken And full of flesh “I broke your floor. I’m so sorry I broke your floor” I tell drake as my sobs stop, my body trembles as he holds me. “Your worried about my floor?” He asks in disbelief, I nod, staring at it. “Those stains are going to be a bitch to get out” He chuckles “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have our people come fix it” “Like the mob have cleaners? Do we have special murder cleaners?”

She didn’t even bother to get a cup as she chugged the blood down straight from the gallon. The blood tasted stale. She didn’t know what it felt like to drink blood straight from the source until Damon showed her how to. She wanted fresh blood, not the stale thing her dad kept feeding her. As she pulled the gallon away from her lips, her eyes caught sight of Taylor. Oh, no. She forgot to lock the door. He was standing there, looking terrified, still trying to process what he just saw. After he had registered it in his head, he let out a screeching scream.

After laughing to her heart's content, Shirley opened an app, started a livestream, and tearfully claimed I had lost my mind and was out to get her. The viewers tuning into the live stream had never seen anything like that before. They were stunned by the sight of blood on the floor. They all rushed to help Shirley, calling the police and the ambulance. The audience was outraged, screaming that I, the wicked culprit, had to be punished harshly. As the ambulance sirens blared in the distance, I stumbled upon another video. Edwin was being featured in an interview today. When the interviewer asked about his past studies and how he started his business, Edwin's handsome face lit up with pride.

"Losing just a little blood made me cold, dizzy... I thought I was gonna die. Only then did I get it—what I put you through. I stole your blood. I deserve to die..." His voice broke as he wept, like a kid who'd done something unforgivable. "I deserve to die... I deserve to die..." I sighed. "You don't have to die. Just stay out of my life." *** Back home, Vincent insisted on wiring me a ridiculous amount of money. "This is a breakup fee. If you don't take it, that means you don't agree to break up." I took it. Just like that, I was financially free. ***

Donovan Enterprises occupied the top fourteen floors of a glass tower in the financial district that caught the morning light and threw it back at you like a warning. I stood on the pavement outside for a moment, looking up at it. In my previous life I had never had a reason to come here. I had read about it afterward, in the examination articles, described as a memorial to one man's refusal to accept limitations, the journalist had meant it admiringly, reading it after the collapse, it had just sounded like a tribute, not this time. I pushed through the revolving door. The lobby was everything the building promised from the outside.

” I ask him. “It’s right there, stupid!” he says. “Man, how would you survive without me?” I don’t answer him. I see the door now, and I’m almost there. I pick up speed and only stop sprinting when I reach the door. What if it’s locked? My hand connects with the golden knob, and when I twist, it opens. I breathe a sigh of relief. But then… as I walk into the antechamber, I see that the blood is spread throughout this room as well, staining the floor the same crimson color as the hallways.