Bloody Murder 2: Closing Camp Novels & Stories

Rain said and then buried my fingers in his soft locks, the action having a calming effect on her for some reason, maybe because she knew she was safe from another smacking tonight, “He isn’t important and I’m pretty sure I will never see him again in my life so I don’t even want to think of him anymore,” She silently hoped her tactic would work and Cullen would drop it. Either that or he would send one of his men to go find the man and then kill him in front of Rain just to prove his fucking point and make her fear him even more. He still wasn’t over what had happened a few weeks ago when Rain had left the apartment and went outing with one of her male friends...Edgar was murdered in front

One by one, they fell, leaving no trace of their defiance behind. Amid the carnage, the elder tried to slip away unnoticed, disappearing into the chaos like a shadow. But Damon, driven by vengeance, hunted him down without mercy. Cornering the trembling man, Damon raised his weapon and, with cold finality, delivered a single, fatal shot to the elder's head. The sharp crack of the gunfire marked the end of the former elder, his lifeless body collapsing as silence briefly descended upon the factory, broken only by the faint crackle of smoldering debris.

Just feet, crunching loudly on the dead, hard foliage still present from last season. After about a dozen steps, something new enters the screen. It is a splash of something across the forest floor in a deep red-brown color. Blood. Even I know what splattered blood looks like. As the phone slowly pans around, I see more and more of it. My breathing picks up speed and my heart begins to race. Fear just about chokes me now, because I know what he’s showing me. The massacre of the short people’s camp. I don’t want to watch it, but I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the screen. Just like in the dungeon. I have to know, but I don’t want to know.

Blood from my nose had run past my lips and chin, smearing across my cheeks and ears. The front of my shirt had long since lost its original color. It was soaked through with blood. The pool beneath me had spread to Derrick’s shoes, sticky and dark. “Harriet?” Derrick’s voice trembled. He called my name again. “Harriet?” Mom had been celebrating Sheila’s safe return. When she saw Derrick storm toward the storage room, she followed him. The sight before her made her scream. She covered her mouth and staggered back a step. Dad had been comforting the frightened Sheila. After hearing the commotion, he rushed over as well.

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

With Bobby cornered against the cinder block dormitory walls, Cybill leaped across the bed, sinking her teeth into his shoulder. Bobby tried to cry out for help, but was too weak from the blood loss. The cat and mouse game had whipped Cybill into a frenzy that she was unable to come down from. She devoured Bobby, tearing him limb from limb until she extracted every last drop of blood from his corpse. When she was done, the only thing that remained of her date were tiny shriveled shreds of a life that was once known as Bobby Welburg. Cybill gathered up the pieces, taking them to the dump to be unceremoniously disposed of. Her cold heart felt no remorse, for her mission now was singular. Blood

'So that's why Darick had her suck my blood,' I thought as I stared at the cut on my finger. I kept pinching myself to make sure what was taking place was real. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Chelsea would think I was mad if I told her what had transpired within the last twenty-four hours. "I know you're a journalist, but what made you want to know about Darick?" Isabella asked as she sipped her wine. I took a deep breath and sighed. "I was at brunch a few weeks ago and overheard a police officer talking to his partner about recent disturbing murders in town. He mentioned that the bodies had bite marks on their neck, and a few had been dumped in graveyards. He thought it was some kin

And I remember—most of all—the eyes of the person who killed me. They weren’t wild with rage or trembling with guilt. They were calm. Too calm. The kind of calm that comes when you finally finish a chore you’ve been putting off. A bored, almost dismissive gaze, as if my life was nothing more than an obstacle they’d been forced to deal with. That was the last thing I saw before the darkness took me. And then… nothing. No warm light at the end of a tunnel. No reunion with lost loved ones. Just a silence so complete it was almost deafening.

The clearing ahead opened toward the riverbank—the same place where, once, as children, they’d sworn they’d never let the old world touch them again. Now it was waiting for them. Zevran turned, snapping his jaws at the first hunter to breach the clearing. The man’s scream echoed as he fell, silver blade clattering uselessly to the ground. Another came from the right—Kaelira met him mid-charge, claws slashing through his arm. The blood that spilled burned her skin, laced with iron. More came. Too many. Zevran’s wolf spun, killing two, three, but for every one that fell, another emerged from the shadows.

Arya had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. It was the most unnerving sight they had ever seen. Esha’s body lay motionless on the floor. There was a scary calmness on her face as she lay there, face up – her bloodshot eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling. A light green camisole barely covered her pale, lifeless body. Her black trousers were shining with the light coming from the street. There was a pool of blood next to her head. Everything else seemed to be in order. The huge glass windows were shut; the furniture was in place. The back door, however, was open.