Bloody Money Novels & Stories

"What does that have to do with our military? Let the banks or regulatory agencies handle it." Chester shouted, "General, if this were ordinary financial crime, then of course it wouldn't concern us! But this money came from Gabo Creek's largest business association, the Gabo Creek Chamber of Commerce. "The accounts receiving it belong openly to Blumedale's two underground kings: the White Dragon and the Black Dragon. And that's not all… Over 1000 gang enforcers have taken to the streets, openly searching for people." Luna spoke dismissively. "They're just a bunch of clowns. Do you know what they're after?"

"We have to go, boss. We're going to be late for the meeting at the docks. Jasper said he has something for you along with the shipment tonight.” I turned to him and smirked. "Good. Let's go." *** "Amon. Good to see you again," Jasper said as he jumped out of his black truck. Jasper was my connection man to all the guns and drugs I could ask for. The Blood Kings have been laundering money, drugs, and guns in this area since I took over part of the Blood Brother's territory. "You have my shipment?" I walked to the back of his truck. "Right here." He removed a black sheet from the wooden box. I picked up one of the black AK-47s and slid my finger across the trigger.

If someone tried to stick their hand down my pants, they’d get a punch to the jaw. She shuffled the cards then dispersed them onto the table. “I don’t want your money. It’s tainted.” “Tainted how?” “Because of the way you earned it. It’s blood money.” My eyes narrowed because she wasn’t wrong. She moved the cards around until she was only left with three. She examined each one. “Fire. Demon. Death.” I glanced at the cards then looked at her once more. “You picked those cards.”

“That we’re tame.” He gave a short, humorless laugh. “That’ll fool them for maybe a minute.” “Then we’d better make it a memorable minute.” The first drops of heavier rain began to fall, hissing against the embers. They didn’t move until the fire finally went out. Only then did they return to the shelter, leaving the token buried in the mud outside—the coin where cult and crown met, waiting for someone else to find it when the storm passed

Min squeezed Jun’s hand, forcing him to look back. "Cash," Min whispered. "Dirty, untraceable cash from the gambling dens in Macau, the smuggling routes in Incheon, and the shadow banks in Hong Kong. Tonight, two hundred guests—some well-known, but the majority greedy novices given opportunities to network but in truth there to be exploited—will buy 'art' at silent auctions for ten times its value. They will make 'anonymous donations' to shell charities. By morning, ten million dollars of black money will be white as snow and sitting in the Senator’s war chest." Jun swallowed hard.

Money moved before people even realized it was gone. That was Nyxara’s first memory after death—how currency slipped between hands like smoke, indifferent, untethered to conscience or sleep. Money never waited. It didn’t need to. It belonged to whoever could seize it, shape it, and unleash it. Right now, it answered to her. Loyal as a wolf at her heel, and just as hungry.

I say. "For what she expended." Maret chooses her words carefully. Sets them down like objects she is placing on a surface she isn't sure will hold them. "What she carries, what was revealed tonight, it isn't something we have a reference for. Not in living memory. The Moonblood hasn't manifested fully in generations." She pauses. "She used a significant portion of it in a very short time. The shift. The fight. And then what she did for you." She says that last part without inflection.

he stammered, eyes wide. “Good.” I leaned in close enough he could smell the iron on my breath. “Who’s been moving Base Two money through this city?” That cracked them. Not with words at first — with a look. One man flinched just enough, eyes darting toward greasy-hair. And that was all I needed. I drove my blade into greasy-hair’s thigh. He howled, toppling from his chair. Blood sprayed across the concrete. “Try again,” I said, wiping the blade clean on his shirt.

Arthur began, "after what we just learned... that money, it's tainted. It's from the Sable fortune, built on that same... legacy." "That's exactly why I'm taking it," LJ said, his voice gaining a sharp, cold edge. "It's blood money. The blood of our family. Of Angela. Of my father's sanity." He looked at me, and his eyes were no longer those of a lost boy, but of a man making a terrible calculation. "I'm not going to let it sit in a bank. Or let it go to some other faceless entity." "Then what will you do with it?" I asked, dread coiling in my stomach.

"Don't expect a single cent from me. Let's see how you're going to pull this off." Brian chimed in from the side, grinning. "Exactly! No money, and you still want to go to college? Winterford Institute of Technology? Keep dreaming!" I ignored him and pulled a heavy metal box out from under my bed. Inside was a stack of cash. Ones, fives, tens, and twenties, with a few hundred-dollar bills mixed in, piled into a small mound. Every dollar I had ever earned. Paid for with sweat, bruises, and whatever pride I had left, starting from elementary school.