Bloodshot Dc Novels & Stories

Blood ran down my wrists. “You’re insane!” I snarled. “You’d kill thousands — *millions* — just to bring back one person?!” Marcus’s eyes met mine, cold and utterly convinced. “Yes.” --- **LARA** The ground was shaking violently beneath my feet. Dark flames roared higher around the execution platform, casting grotesque shadows that danced like demons across the splintering wood. Every breath I took felt like swallowing shards of glass. Blood poured steadily from my nose and the deep gash in my side, soaking through my clothes and making every movement slick and painful. My vision blurred at the edges, and my silver power flickered unsteadily — the divine lunar energy I forced through my body

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

By the simple fact that where this kind of light goes, the things that hide in darkness cannot stay hidden. I feel it working. I also feel the cost. It is not pain exactly. It is more like weight. Like every drop of the Moonblood I send into him is something I am drawing from a reserve that is not infinite, and I have already spent so much tonight — in the shift, in the fight, in the thirty seconds of absolute clarity it took to face Lysandra and end what she was. I don't stop. I keep sending it.

Dino’s POV The call preceded the settlement of the smoke. Attack confirmed by your voice,” Sofia, said, my voice tightened. "Drina's convoy was hit." I was holding the phone in my hand. "Is she alive?" "Yes," she replied quickly. "Shaken. Minor injuries. The driver is dead." I then shut my eyes for half a second and afterwards reopened them. "Lock the city." "That's already in motion." "I want the shooter," I said. "Alive if possible."

Scarlett’s POV The night smelled like blood and smoke. By the time Damien and I stumbled into the safehouse, dawn was only a faint bruise along the horizon. My ears still rang from gunfire; my hands shook so badly that I could barely keep the door latch steady. He dropped the duffel on the floor and pressed his back against the wall, breath ragged. A dark stain spread through his sleeve. “You’re bleeding again,” I said. “It’s nothing.” “Don’t do that.” I crossed the room before he could move, grabbed the hem of his jacket, and pulled. The fabric was stiff with dried blood. “Don’t pretend this isn’t happening.”

The Guardian dragged the blade down as far as he could reach and then pulled it straight up as the bloodsucker went rigid, and his knees buckled. Brandon’s broken leg slammed into the ground again, and the Vampire rolled on top of him. His scream was choked off by the vomit that propelled itself out of his mouth as he could no longer deal with the pain. Dax was over them now, and he sank a titanium bullet into the monster’s head, immediately exploding it into a million pieces of ash.

He moved his hands down lower and I flinched when he got to my ribcage. He pulled back and he lifted up the bottom of my shirt to see the bandage covering the wound. He slowly peeled the bandage back and he saw where the dart grazed me. "What the fuck?" He asked. "One of the first darts only grazed me. I think they were aiming for me. But it didn’t make me shift back into a human and it won't heal as fast as it should." I said. "And the blood." Connor said. "Yeah. The blood's black. And I don't know why." I said.

The bullet turned a damn faucet on. Caroline’s scream is incredibly loud in my ears. Louder than the sound of the gun. I’m not even certain the gun made any sound at all. Maybe it did. Maybe it didn’t. Everything feels muffled and sharp at the same time. I watch Duncan in silence, cold shivers rushing down my spine. His hands go to his neck. Blood. So much blood. Pouring between his fingers, spreading across his black hoodie. The only light in the room is from the bloodied flashlight and the streetlight across the road, bright enough to illuminate their faces.