Bloody Painter X Judge Angels Novels & Stories

"She's not like the sluts you sleep with." I know! "Disappear," I order, and he walks away and flips me his middle finger. The guys stand up, then we make our way downstairs. "Where are you going?" my mom asks us as we reach the door. "Walking Angel to her gym class," Ted replies, and my mom nods. We walk out and start jogging so that we can join her. "Why the sudden interest with Angel?" Daniel suddenly asks as he jogs behind me. "I need a new prey," I simply say while stuffing my hands in my pocket.

Gus left while the game was paused for the distribution of new cards. I took a sip of the beer I still had in my hands and silently watched the people who were there. Most were already getting very drunk, but they didn't seem to give up or want to go to sleep. A voice echoed in questioning yanking me out of my thoughts: — So, Angel, what does a girl like you do in a shitty building like that?— Ian's friends looked tensely at Joyce at the question, judging her by her meddling, but I was used to it.

That moment he knew what he had to do. That night he practiced alone in their gym, honing every ability he had in preparation of confronting the council. While many of the angels on the council were incredibly powerful and well versed in combat, he still believed he had an advantage. Pureblood angels were always believed to be stronger, despite their tendency to fall from heaven due to violent tendencies. Ash wasn't entirely sure of his feelings for the demon king, but he planned on defending them even if it meant giving his life for it. Throughout the night the sounds of his training echoed through the darks, but no one dared intervene.

The angel’s wings had two shades of black and white and spread up above. “Redenzione dell’angelo caduto. The Fallen Angel’s Redemption. Bello, no?” he murmured. “Sì, signore, bellissimo. Chi ha creato questo?” I said, unable to take my eyes off the painting. “A painter and friend I talked about earlier. Tu parla Italiano, si?” I shifted my gaze to his gorgeous face. “My mother was Italian. She taught me. You? You speak it very well, Mr. Stark like it’s your mother tongue.”

A badass queen. The revelation is like a splash of cold water hitting me. I'm in love with a fucking killer. The thought should make me run in the opposite direction but my body betrays me as excitement starts pooling in my stomach. I am disappointed she didn't consider revealing that part of her life to me but that disappointment can't compare to the relief I feel. Now,my team has nothing to worry or accuse Hera of. If there's something I know,the killer angels have Zero association with any group be it a biker,a gang or the Mafioso. They act on their own and don't engage in anything illegal like drug trafficking, weapon smuggling or money laundering.

"What did you paint, mama bear?" Shayla held up her canvas. She had painted the ocean. Blue water stretching to the horizon. White foam on the waves. A sunset in the background. Simple but pretty. "That is beautiful," Angel said. "Really beautiful, Mommey." "Thank you, baby. What about you? What did you paint?" Angel turned her canvas around. She showed them what she had been working on so carefully. It was people. A family. Clearly recognizable figures despite Angel's young artistic skills.

When it came to judgment, their so-called purity became a vicious sword that diced all sinners without mercy. If the angels were to catch them, not only would their souls be brought before the fountain and prayed for as they burned halfway to their death but their half-dead bodies would be thrown down to the heavens and no matter how powerful they were, one could only imagine just how brutal their death would be. And that wasn’t all, angels couldn’t be killers but that wasn’t for their followers. Imagining their already/almost dead body being displayed on the fields as atrocious beings, Dina felt their ending shouldn’t be like this.

Angel’s POV Ace seemed torn, caught between the darkness that enveloped him and my offer. His voice cracked as he spoke, "But what if I never get better? What if I'm stuck like this forever?" I drew a deep breath, my voice filled with determination. "Ace, I won't pretend to have all the answers, but what I do know is that there are professionals who specialize in helping people like you navigate through this darkness. They have the tools, the knowledge, and the experience to guide you towards a path of healing. We have to believe that there is hope, that there is a chance for you to find peace and happiness once again."

AUTHOR'S POV Xavier clenched his hands into tight fists until the knuckles turned white, his hand itching to hit something as thirsty for blood raised inside him. “Are these reports correct?” He asked through gritted teeth, his voice cold enough to freeze everything in the living room. Angelina swallowed when she heard the chill in Xavier’s voice. She couldn't believe what they had just found out. Just like Xavier, she wanted to know the truth. Angelina knows that Pamela could be cruel. However, she didn't know that she could be that cruel.

Mateo asked again more venomously. “Please, don’t do this” Xavier begged for the first time in his life, “Please, I would give you whatever you want” he said to Mateo who smirked back sadistically. “You cannot give me what I already have,” Mateo replied, his grip on Nessa’s hair tightened and Nessa cried out in pain. Xavier raised his both hands, surrendering to the Spanish Mafia, he threw his gun far from his reach as an act of surrender. “Please, kill me instead, Just let her go” he pleaded again, his once steady powerful voice was gone and his voice sounded to him like a weak teenager.