Blood Trace Intact Novels & Stories

The investigator said slowly My patience was already hanging by a thread. “What now?” The investigator swallowed once before answering. “We found traces of blood inside the SUV when we searched it.” Frustration flickered over my face. “Whose blood?” “We don’t know yet. The sample was damaged from water exposure.” Damien folded his arms slowly. “Could belong to Serena.” “No, she went into the ocean. Why would her blood be inside his vehicle?” I argued. “That’s exactly the problem,” the investigator replied quietly.

It was hard to tell who else was there with her when all the scents blended into one. When we found nothing in the gym, we followed a trail of blood, which led away from the pack and into the forest. Along the trail, we noticed a few snapped twigs, a crushed leaf here and there, and bloodstains on one or two tree trunks. That trail wasn’t a patrol route, and I wanted to believe they knew that. The blood seemed to belong to Sierra, implying the other person suffered no injuries. The trail, however, led us to a stream where I stood, glaring into the water as if an answer would miraculously materialize if I stared into it long enough.

“We found tire marks. They switched vehicles halfway up the ridge. We’re still tracking.” I nodded once. Calm on the surface. Inside, annihilation. “We also confirmed,” he continued carefully, “that Richard Hale is alive.” “I know.” “Do you want” “I want data,” I cut in. “Footprints, drone feeds, highway cams, thermal signatures, every exit route. Now.” He nodded and ran. Another agent approached. “Mr. Knight, we found a chemical trace on the cloth left behind. It’s an advanced sedative. Not commercially available. Military grade.”

I just couldn’t let myself think of the worst. The faint metallic scent of her blood still lingered in the air, almost unmistakable under the earthy smell of the forest. My eyes caught a glimpse of a faint crimson stain on the rocky ground, I brushed my finger against the edge of it and I knew immediately. It was her blood. My stomach twisted with certainty. I dipped my head lower, sniffing again and trying to find a single trace of her scent that may have been scattered by the wind. The edge of the was dangerously close, the thick fog concealing the ground below like a blanket. It was as if Fiona had just disappeared.

“Looks like there was a serious fight. Forensics are already inside, gathering blood samples.” The word blood hit me like ice water down my spine. My thoughts immediately leapt to Hazel and her little boy—the last time I saw them, their quiet warmth, the way she smiled even on the hardest days. Blood samples. My stomach churned. I could barely form the word as it left my lips. “Blood?” “It’s bad,” Elijah said grimly. “Whoever did it didn’t get to her without a fight. But there’s no trace of her or her son.”

‘‘And you need to be aware that Leina's fingerprints matched the blurred fingerprints that were found in Enid's car. Fuck!

"Eve is pulling security footage from around the warehouse. Looking for any vehicle movements in the past twenty-four hours. Trying to figure out where they could have taken her." "The blood you found," Jackson asked. "Do you know if it is hers?" "Running DNA analysis now. Will have results in a few hours. But Jackson, even if it is her blood, the amount suggests a minor injury. Not life threatening. Not indicative of serious trauma." Mackenzie's tone shifted, becoming gentler. "I know this is not the news you wanted. I know you were hoping we would call and say she is safe and on her way home. But we are not giving up. Every resource we have is focused on finding her."

"She's in our custody now." "She was part of this," I insist. "And we'll get it from her." Rivera appears at my side, her expression unreadable. "The legal way." The ambulance doors slam shut. Marco disappears inside, clinging to life by threads. I stand in the middle of chaos—agents securing the scene, evidence technicians photographing blood spatter, the jet being searched. All this violence, and still no answers. Marco’s blood stains my hands, but it isn’t enough. None of this is enough.

She looked up as I entered, relief washing over her features. "Ruth says the traces stabilized," she said without preamble. "So her message indicated," I confirmed, moving closer to examine Adam. "May I?" She nodded, carefully adjusting the sleeping infant so I could see the delicate silver lines trailing beneath his skin. They were exactly as Ruth had described—visible along major blood vessels and neural pathways, faint but unmistakable, neither spreading nor receding since yesterday's examination. I placed my hand gently on his arm, watching as the silver lines on my skin brightened and his responded in kind, the patterns connecting like completing circuit. The reaction was less dramatic