Bloodshot Comics

In my previous life, I married the Underboss of the Marino family to forge an alliance between our mafia families. However, he treated me with nothing but cold indifference. In the end, he conspired with his mistress and left me to burn alive. When I opened my eyes again, I was 22 years old once more. I was back at that party where he had locked me out for her sake. This time, I did not cry. I simply turned and walked away. I tore up our marriage contract myself, built my own fashion empire, and met a man who actually respected and loved me. The irony of it all? The same man who once threw me away like garbage now chased after me like a mad dog, desperate to fix what he had broken. "Rosalie, just come back with me now and I'll pretend none of this ever happened!" His eyes were bloodshot as he begged. I looked at him and laughed. What happened could not be erased just because he wanted it to be. In this lifetime, I would bask in the sunlight and live just for myself.

The whole wolf pack knew I was Alpha Nick’s fated mate—chosen by the Moon Goddess herself. But the second I stepped into Brown Pack territory with my suitcase in hand— His mother, Mrs. Johnson, ordered the maids to spray me with wolfsbane. His cousin, Enna, "accidentally" put me in *his* bedroom. And his childhood sweetheart, Rina, slapped a ten-million-dollar check in my face, demanding I publicly renounce this "joke of a mating bond." Even Alpha Nick himself—the ruthless legend of the pack—spent the first night wrapped around me like a damn octopus, only to kick me out coldly the next morning: *"Get out. Don’t come back to my room again."* When I was framed for theft, forced to work overtime till midnight, or locked inside a pitch-black office mid-panic attack… My *"fiancé"* was too busy grinding on Rina at some high-society ball. Then the truth about me dropped— Brown Pack’s elders dropped to their knees, trembling. Rina ripped her knockoff Luara gown in rage. And Alpha Nick, eyes bloodshot, pinned me against the wall: *"Wendy… you played me."* I smirked, peeling his fingers off me. *"Sorry, Alpha. The three-month contract’s up."* *"Now… call me by my real title—heir of White Moon Pack."*

When my husband learns of his first love's death, he jumps from the cruise ship where we are spending our honeymoon, ending his life. Only then do I realize he has never gotten over Clara Levine. Reborn back to his teenage years, he resolutely lets go of my hand and walks toward his first love. I watch them leave together, then turn and walk away. From that moment on, our lives become nothing more than two parallel lines that will never meet. Ten years later, we run into each other at a banquet in Oceanus City. He has become a rising star among the elite, with Clara appearing on his arm, intimately holding onto him. When he sees me accidentally wander into the banquet, he can't help but give me advice. "Stop obsessing over me. Even if you wait for me for ten years, I still won't fall in love with you." I ignore him and pull my son out from the corner where he's sneaking cake. His eyes suddenly turn bloodshot as he grabs my hand tightly. "How dare you try to make me jealous on purpose? Didn't you say you would only love me for your entire life?" he says.

For six years after their marriage, Miranda Stone devoted herself wholeheartedly to being Mrs. Gibson. She only found out later that while he was abroad, Felix Gibson had been secretly keeping his first love by his side. Miranda had once believed that even the coldest heart would eventually warm if she just loved hard enough. But that belief shattered the day his beloved first love won an international award and threw a lavish celebration—while their daughter was being wheeled into a freezing cold operating room. That was the moment Miranda finally woke up. She took back her worthless love, filed for divorce, and walked away with her daughter without ever looking back. Once she picked up her career again, the woman who used to be a stay-at-home wife transformed into one of the most sought-after experts in the medical field. Her research papers were published in top international journals. Her breakthroughs won prestigious awards across countries. When she stepped back into the spotlight, glowing with confidence and ready to give herself another chance at happiness, the man who had always held himself above everyone else—so composed and restrained—finally broke. He lost it completely. His eyes were bloodshot, his voice hoarse with desperation. He dropped to his knees in front of her, pleading like a man who had lost everything. “Mira, please don’t leave me.”

In the final year of my bond with vampire lord Saul, the curse of our pact struck, and I was overwhelmed by agony, but my lord was nowhere to be found. He had gone out. He left me to suffer. Alone. When the door finally creaked open the next morning, I looked up through bloodshot eyes—hope flickering like a dying candle. But he wasn't alone. He carried an unconscious woman in his arms, her head resting against his chest like she belonged there. Ignoring me as I curled up on the floor in pain, he first carried the woman to his room and called the old butler anxiously. "Jacinda's passed out. Hurry! Check if she's all right!" The old butler cautiously pleaded on my behalf, hoping our lord could save me first, but Saul frowned and interrupted: "Jacinda is in danger, and I have no mind to drink her blood now. She just needs to pull through herself. Believe me, she won't die. Right now, the priority is to save Jacinda." A frown and a glance in my direction was his only response to the old butler's desperate plea. With my only hope shattered, I clenched my teeth and slashed several long wounds on my arms and hands to drain blood for self-rescue. After a long period of weak convulsions, the curse of the pact finally ended. I lay in a pool of blood, sending a message with my last faint consciousness. "I promise I will leave him."

I accompany my husband, Michael Yates, to a stationed assignment on a remote island. Out at sea, a sudden storm hits. The ship capsizes and begins to sink. As the commanding officer, my husband gives the last life vest to his so-called godsister, Naomi Hollister. I don't cry or scream. I just watch silently as he carefully fastens the straps around her body. In my past life, I had clutched my pregnant belly and begged him for help. After a brief hesitation, he finally put the vest on me. But Naomi was swept away by the waves, and her body later washed up on shore. Only half of it remained. Michael insisted it wasn't my fault. He also said that saving me was his duty, both morally and professionally. He even took leave to stay by my side before I gave birth. But when my water broke in the dead of night, he pushed me into the sea. His eyes were bloodshot and burning with hatred. "Leah, if it weren't for you, Mimi would still be alive! Did you really have to force me to give you the vest when you were just pregnant? Couldn't you have waited a little longer? Why do you get to live? Go down there and die with her!" I drown, and fish tear my body apart. I die without even a full corpse left behind. And then, I open my eyes. I'm back on the day of the storm.

Even after being married for three years, my husband treats me like a stranger. When I throw up blood from pregnancy complications, he's in the prayer room chanting for his foster sister, Yvie Springton. He accuses me of being dramatic. If Yvie so much as gets a headache, he drops everything and flies overseas to be by her side. When his parents are in critical condition after a car crash, I beg him to go see them one last time. But what does he do? He claims I'm cursing Yvie. When I go into early labor and cling to life after giving birth to our son, he posts a photo of his international boarding pass on social media. At his parents' funeral, he returns to the country with Yvie and demands I leave the marriage with nothing. The day our divorce finalizes, he holds a wedding ceremony with her. I bury his parents alone. Then, at an exclusive auction, dead set on winning the famous painting for Yvie, he offered a staggering price. Even his accounts are frozen. That's when he finally realizes he's been disowned by the Springton family. His eyes are bloodshot, and he's furious as he demands answers. I simply gesture for my lawyer to step forward. He says, "Mr. Springton, take a look at this will."

She was afraid to fall in love. He never lowered the walls of his heart, afraid to face betrayal. Both were busy chasing away the demons of their sleepless nights not knowing when their lives entangled and they crashed into each other, seeking solace from the treacherous world. Valerie Ambrose bumped into Damon Lysander at a downtown club. Eyes met, sparks flew, heat rose, and they ended up having a one-night stand. _ "I don't have cash on me. I forgot my wallet." He slurred, his crystal blue eyes bloodshot red as he stared directly into my eyes, for a moment I thought he was sober, but then he leaned in and whispered in my ear, his breath fanning my neck. "Now are you still interested?" Although the music was blasting through the speakers, but I caught up on his hidden implication. I shook my head in exhaustion "You're drunk Damon. Come I will drop you home." "I don't want to go back there. It hurts Val." He mumbled dryly, but his moist eyes said it all, and I couldn't help but pity him. When I failed to respond he pressed his lips to the side of my neck and inhaled deeply. "Please don't leave me alone." He was barely audible and looked like a mess, a beautiful mess. "I can't bear this anymore." And with that said, he pressed his lips to mine.

My husband, Julian Sutton, is busy with work on the day of my prenatal checkup. His childhood sweetheart, Vera Levine, with whom he's been amorous for years, offers to drive me. On the way there, she suddenly swerves and rams into the back of a truck. The car is flattened. Julian is a doctor in the emergency room, but I don't call him. Instead, I dial 911 and wait for assistance. Why? I called him in my past life, and he took me to the hospital. Our child was saved, but Vera died due to significant blood loss. Julian claimed not to blame me and even arranged for me to stay in a private hospital ward. But on the day I was discharged, he dragged me to Vera's grave and stabbed me. I lost the child and was on the verge of death as I stared into his bloodshot eyes. They were filled with unbridled hatred as he snarled, "Vera wouldn't have died if you hadn't grabbed the wheel! Don't think I'll believe you just because you're acting innocent! An eye for an eye—I want you to die for her, but only after experiencing the pain she felt in a hundredfold!" He twisted the blade and stabbed me repeatedly. My blood splattered on Vera's gravestone, dying it red. When I open my eyes again, I find that I've been taken back to the scene of the accident.

I am an Omega. One day, Alpha Carl Blanchard found me in the Borderlands and took me in. After we formed the mate bond, he spoiled me senseless, never once caring who was watching. Now, everyone was whispering about the cold, ruthless Alpha who treats me—an Omega who used to be a Rogue—like I'm something sacred. They said it defied everything the Moon Goddess ever intended. I used to think he loved me down to the bone, that he just couldn't help showing the whole world how crazy he was about me. But then, I overhear him talking to his close friend. "I'm the Alpha of the Eastlands. I rule ten packs. If I don't paint Daisy as my weakness and my one obsession, how else am I supposed to keep Fiona off my enemies' radar? Turns out every wound I took for him was a damn joke. If that's how it is, I'm done playing Luna of the Eastlands. On my last day there, I made one call. "I'm in. I'll head to the Borderlands and spend the next ten years in closed research on medicinal herbs." When Carl found me gone, he came after me with bloodshot eyes and his pride in ruins. "Daisy… are you really leaving me?"