Blood On The Tide Novels & Stories

Sorry but I need to live. ...... Blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood blood So much blood. ......

That night, I dream of drowning. Not in water. In tide. A great, dark tide that pulls me under and spins me around and drags me toward something I cannot see. The current is too strong to fight. I kick and claw and scream, but the tide does not care. It pulls me down, down, down, and just when I think I will never breathe again, I feel hands on my body. Strong hands. Familiar hands. The hands of the Alpha who marked me.

The trees leaned as though trying to flee. ⸻ Day Seven. The final countdown. Ava stood by the ancient ruins, the wind wrapping around her like a cloak. Achi joined her, his body tense but steady. “We started this with fear,” she said, her voice clear, “but we’ll finish it with truth.” Behind them, Marcus and Darius watched in silence. Neither dared speak. The ground itself seemed to breathe with anticipation. The Blood Moon began to rise—larger than ever, swollen and pulsing with power. Its red light painted the world in warning.

he murmurs, and we move as one, our steps cautious. We begin to walk, our steps cautious, our senses alert. The grass sways lazily. The forest looms ahead, its dark silhouette a reminder of the danger that once lurked within its embrace. Then, I see it—a splash of crimson against the green, so stark it seems almost unnatural. Blood. My heart skips a beat, and I feel a cold dread settle in my stomach. "Landon," I call out, my voice barely above a whisper, "look." He is by my side in an instant, his eyes following my gaze. The blood is fresh, the edges of the stain still dark and wet. It is a silent testament to violence, a stark reminder that not all is as it seems in this tranquil field.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN Irina's POV I slit my throat. There was so much blood. It sprayed across the leather seats. I saw it splashed onto Alexei's newspaper. It soaked into my clothes, turning everything red. I saw the shock on Alexei's face. His eyes went wide. His mouth dropped open. He wasn't expecting it. "What did you..." he started to say. But I did not hear the rest. Everything was spinning. The world was tilting sideways.

Adrian didn't appear to hear Isolde’s question, nor did he seem to notice the red fluid seeping down from his tie and forming puddles on the ground below him. A salty taste was beginning to form in Isolde’s mouth, and she realised she was crying too. She wiped away the tears from around her mouth absentmindedly, but when she brought her hand back down, she realised it was stained with blood. Not like the fresh pools of blood dripping down from Adrian’s tie, but stained as though it was days old from a crime committed a long time ago.

She positioned herself beside me like a wall. I looked at Troy for one short moment. Then I turned the glass upside down over his head. The wine soaked through his blond hair, running down his face in rivulets, staining his white shirt red. It pooled at the collar, dripped off his jaw, spread across the fabric. It looked like blood. Tasha shrieked behind him as the splatter caught her chest, her hands flying up to cover herself, stumbling backward in her heels. The VIP section was a painting. Nobody moved.

She reached the waterfall, leaning over the edge, gazing into the crystal clear water, nodding to herself when it seemed normal. "Can you see anything?" I questioned, and Tilda shrugged, moving away from the water, heading over to the cavern, her form freezing as her eyes went wide. "Theonardo!" she called, her voice harsh and loud, stinging my ears and causing me to panic. "What is it?" “Blood, loads of blood.”