Bullet Souls Novels & Stories

CHAPTER SEVENTY ONE MALAKAI * * "Oops, I missed," Pierce mutters, a sly smile spreading on his face. He had only diverted his hand at the last moment, causing the bullet to whizz past Liam's head and is buried into the wall instead. This psycho! Don't just play with someone's life like this, I want to scream at him, but my body just sags with relief when Pierce slowly lowers the gun. He turns to me, still wearing that devious smile, as though mocking my scared trembling form.

The second one responded, “This tactic in the dark… It’s Uno’s signature.” “Uno? I thought no one has ever seen him?” a rookie, I assume, asks. “Wrong,” I decided to cut off their conversation, feeling the high of the night through my veins. “It’s not that no one sees me.” They looked up in my direction with eyes wide in fear. I pointed my gun at them and said, “It’s that no one lives to tell once they see me.” With a pull of the trigger, I shot the three of them… one bullet piercing their skulls in a straight line.

Your sole avenue of spiritual survival lies with a man you tried to kill mere moments ago. "This is insane," Troika shouted and came at me. The room exploded with the sonic resonance of a pistol firing. I may have imagined it, but it appeared the bullet took Troika at the juncture of the right eyebrow, nose ridge and right eye. Whatever the entry point, the .45 ACP slug painted the wall behind her with her grey matter. St. Marie turned quickly on Fatima.

The staples I had driven into his side were visible—tiny, silver-white stitches against skin bruised an oxygen-starved purple. He wasn't fighting a King. He was fighting a Sledge-Wolf—a chemically enhanced monster with arms like tree trunks and eyes leaking necrotic fluid. "Betting is closed!" a voice shrieked. "The 'Mortal Relic' vs. The Butcher!" I watched, my pulse thudding a slow, syncopated rhythm. I didn't feel the fire of a fated bond. Instead, the Gilded Toll pulsed in my skull, a sharp, clinical erasure.

A flash of movement. A glint of glass and metal catching the weak floodlight. Hunters. My blood goes cold. They’re up there. Hidden in the skeleton of the stadium roof, rifles braced against the steel. I know that smell; burning silver, UV rounds. Death designed for wolves. “Hunters!” I scream, but my voice is swallowed by the chaos below. A crack splits the air, deafening. The first bullet slams into a Voss wolf mid-shift, and he goes down screaming, skin blistering where the round burns. Another shot follows, clipping a Draven’s shoulder, smoke rising from the wound.

Jake Three days later, Elena still hadn't woken up. The operation had been successful but she had to be put in a medically induced coma because she had lost a lot of blood and was still in the red zone. if they had brought her in any later, it would have been too late to save her thankfully the bullet didn't hit any vital spot and she had been sagacious enough to put pressure on the wound which helped a lot. Jake hadn't left her side since she was brought into the private room he got for her, he had only left to take bathroom breaks when necessary and had ignored mike's plea for him to go home for a few hours at least instead he had made the guy bring clean shirts for him.

“Make me.” Bullets sang.

The kill shot hurtled towards his head, and Asmodeus closed his eyes, bracing for the inevitable. But then, a miracle. The bullets froze in mid-air, suspended like deadly icicles. Madeus, sensing Asmodeus's pain through their shared connection, had stopped the fight with Lutan and rushed to his brother's side. With a swift motion, he sent the floating bullets clattering to the ground and pulled the headshot bullet out of Asmodeus's skull.

A single scratch, a drop of their cursed blood, and it’s over. I don’t hesitate, firing a Baobab bullet straight into its heart. It screeches, a sound cut abruptly short as it disintegrates. “Fuck, I love these bullets,” I mutter, reloading. Konstantin chuckles, but it’s cut short as more wolves and vamps emerge. The fight becomes a blur of fur, fangs, and flying stakes. We move as one, a deadly duo born of years fighting, even if it wasn’t side by side.