Bounty Hunter Bloods Hand Signs Novels & Stories

“Jerry, the ritual! Now!” “Dad!” I shout, heart jumping. He’s alive, but barely. “You’re hurt!” “Do it!” he yells, tackling the scarred guy. “For your mom!” His words hit hard, and I run to the pier’s edge, the map glowing brighter. The wolf head symbol matches a mark carved on the wood, pulsing like a heartbeat. I pull the note from my pocket—blood and moonlight. “Blood,” I mutter, slicing my palm with Sasha’s knife, wincing as blood drips onto the mark. The map hums louder, and my mark burns, like fire in my veins.

“You’re nothing but shit and you’re going to die for feeling like more.” I heard the sound of the gun click and I shivered, as I waited for the bullet to spill into my head. My eyes moved in Dante’s direction at that moment and saw him move his hand weirdly… it was like he was doing a sign. I wasn’t skilled in sign language so I didn’t know if he was telling me to run or fight. I didn’t spend much time trying to figure out what his gesture meant because the sound of gunfire blasted through the air and Gustavo let out this horrible, gurgling groan.

I didn’t understand, why hadn’t he just killed me, what game was he playing? After a few moments he eventually picked up a red hot looking iron symbol as he started walking back over to me, I clenched my jaw as I tensed my body at his closeness, I didn’t know what he planned on doing with it but my eyes were fixed on it as my breathing picked up. Kneeling down in front of me he narrowed his eyes once more as he held up the palm of his free hand, looking at it I noticed a symbol scarred into his hand, it must have been burnt into him. He held up the iron symbol and I realized it was the same symbol, “Give me your hand,” He said sternly. Gulping I frowned as I instinctively pulled my hand agai

With a loud shrieking noise, the beast emerged from the water again, this time aiming for my throat, ready to plunge his spike teeth into them. I don't know what came over me, but I felt something from within. I felt a sudden burst of energy surging through my veins. A memory of a man crossing his hands together in an X sign flashes in my head. Without waiting further, I copied the same things and the unexpected happened. As my hands met together in an X sign, a strange force burst out of my hand and hit the beast away. The force pushed it backwards, slamming its scales onto the canyon rock.

They seek the aid of the village's healers, hoping they can provide the much-needed antivenom to save Hunter's life. As they arrive at the top floor of Handler's Tower, they are greeted by a young merlad, no more than eight years old by the looks of him. He approaches them, his gaze taking in the group before him, and then he signs a single word, "sign." It's a universal gesture asking someone to communicate using their hands, given the different dialects of aquasign. Trent immediately starts signing, his hand placement slightly different from what the others are used to, but his signs are still close enough for the rest of the group to understand. "My bondmate was assaulted with the venom o

he irritably said, starting to roll the paper. "No, wait! I want to sign it!" I immediately grabbed the paper from his hand. "How can I sign this? Where's the pen?" I asked him. He takes out a small knife from his body and walks closer to me. He gently holds my hand and sticks the knife's tip into my index finger, making a small cut. "Use your blood," he whispered. I followed exactly what he said and duly signed the paper. After signing the paper, it vanished in thin air right before my eyes. "Now that the deal has been made, may I ask what are the missy's wishes?" He excitedly asked.

I scanned the destruction, searching for clues, for any sign of what they planned next. “They took something,” Wolf murmured suddenly, pointing with a shaky hand. I followed his gaze. On a crushed metal panel—half-melted—was a symbol scorched into the surface: A serpent swallowing its own tail. Red. Twisting. Almost glowing. My blood froze. “That’s Saint’s mark.” “No,” Wolf said softly. “It’s older than Saint.” He looked at me, eyes wide, frightened. “It’s a blood-oath sigil. Used only in the highest betrayals.”

As we faced each other, he reached into my holster, drawing my blade—the one adorned with the Capone emblem. The blade's polished steel catching the ambient light in the room. The Capone emblem gleamed, a symbol of our family's legacy etched onto the hilt. Dad extended the knife toward me, handle-first, a silent invitation to partake in the blood pact. Our eyes locked, understanding passing between us. Without uttering a word, I took the blade from his hand. I pressed its sharp edge against the palm of my hand. The small bead of blood welled up on my palm from the shallow cut. My gaze remained fixed on the droplet, symbolizing the gravity of our commitment. Dad mirrored my actions, slicing h

He gritted his teeth and picked up the scalpel again. Just as I sighed in relief, his phone rang with a call from Giselle.

Bulldozer’s face darkened in an instant; he felt that he had been greatly disrespected. The next moment, he charged right at Harvey. At the same time, his hands were blood red, with a foul stench coming from them. These were the legendary Bloodshot Hands. People who got hit by them would be infected immediately; the excruciating pain would immobilize anyone instantly. Naturally, Bulldozer wanted to show his strength to Harvey and make Harvey understand just how much stronger he was compared to him. He wanted to teach Harvey a lesson! Right as Bulldozer’s palm was about to hit Harvey…