Bullet Souls Novels & Stories

"I am my genius father. You are so slender, so elegant. I am so lucky to have a thoughtful father like you. I'm glad you're my father. I'm glad I'm your daughter. I'll kiss you when you come, and it's huge!" He quickly stood up and threw everything on the table to the floor. He still wasn't dead! Again he succumbed to his helplessness! Even when he killed his daughter with his own hands, he had never been this helpless... The fire inside him would not go out no matter what he did. Because he knew that only the last thing called death could put out that fire. Only those who were not helpless would do it. That fire in the helpless would burn until death, and it would burn like hell... Just lik

'She' said. "One by one, you followed everything up as it should be. Even your long time enemy who you had changed into a beast to wonder the face of the earth thought that he was going to have his revenge. Little did he know that we were only using him. And now he is dead and gone." 'She' said. "As beasts do not have souls." I said, completing her words. "And how about that herbal woman? I just laughed at her naive behavior. She hadn't even suspected a thing." 'She' said and laughed out loudly.

My blood boiled, and Serenity was seriously injured. I heard sounds of growling and fighting up ahead. I saw her body lying on the ground, blood pooling around her. Her friend's wolves were attacking Black Moon pack members. A long, angry howl left my mouth. The fighting ceased around me. Her friends flanked my sides, Jasper nudged her face, and her bloodshot eyes stared at me before shutting. I shifted back, scared to move her, yelling for anyone to get the doctor. Me and her friends applied pressure to the bullet hole we found.

“Amputation.” Lorak’s mouth tightened—not anger, not offense. Fatigue. “Bonds are destabilizing weapons,” he said. “They compromise judgment. They pull people into harm they can’t see until it’s too late. I cut to contain the blast radius.” The bond behind Tharien’s sternum felt like a blade drawn along its edges—pressure skimming the thread without severing it. He breathed through the threat. “You don’t contain,” he said. “You hollow.”

I explained and he sighed. "Callum come here". Zee patted the seat next to him. Callum scooted over there. "When Zol captured you we had no other option but to change you. It was Steph, well it had to be Steph. Zol just triggered him. Look at these holes. It’s where Stephen bit you. It’s similar to Blaze but these mere holes soon turn into spots. But the bond mark by Blaze will be prominent as the sun. It’s like an arc carved on your skin. A permanent tattoo.

Just faith. Just this one last shot. "Bestow my bullet your divine grace," I whispered. My voice cracked, barely audible over my shallow breath. "Hereby I slay the shadow away—dear Moon, shine over me. Heavens… guide me." “What—?” Boom. I pulled the trigger. The bullet—glowing faintly with moonlight—cut through the air, and through him. A scream—unearthly, shrill—ripped through the space around me. Light tore him apart. I didn’t know if he died, if he would return, or if I’d only wounded his soul.

He reaches for something at his belt. The shot comes from the olive groves beyond the courtyard wall. It is not aimed at me. The sound is a crack that splits the night open, and Enzo makes a noise I have never heard my brother make, a sound that is not a word and not a scream but something in between, something wet and surprised. The round takes him in the shoulder. Clean entry. The kind of shot that says the range was measured and the target was chosen. He drops against the Fiat with the duffel still under his hand, and his blood is already dark on his shirt, spreading in a stain that looks black under the courtyard lights.

The air filled with the deafening roar of gunfire and the sharp scent of cordite. I watched from the safety of a rocky outcropping, my medical mind analyzing the real-time telemetry of the pack through the mate bond. A heavy caliber bullet struck one of the Unbound directly in the shoulder. Instead of tearing through flesh and shattering bone, the round sparked violently against the wolf's osteogenic armor. The bullet flattened and fell into the mud. The wolf barely flinched, spinning around to rip the rifle from the shooter’s hands.

She didn’t look up. “Antibiotics,” Silas said, sliding a silver bullet across the counter. The pack’s currency. The only currency that mattered anymore. The girl pocketed the bullet and tossed him a blister pack. “Expired.” “They all are.” She smirked, nodding to his hood. “You’re bleeding through your shirt, wolf.” Silas stiffened. His hand drifted to the knife at his belt. “Eyes on your screen, pup.” The bell jangled again. “Well, fuck me.” The voice was a graveled punch to the gut. “Silas fucking Blackwood.”

The creature asked. “Gareth Muffson, the slayer of demons!” The creature chuckled. Bola whizzed from the little air that was passing through to his burning lungs. He didn’t wait. Instead, he raised his hands and placed them on the creature’s heart or the place that should have been the heart. “Burn,” Bola whispered just as the creature turned away from Gareth, to meet his smiling gaze. It was too late. The familiar sensation was already traveling into Bola’s hands and palms, producing a blinding white light that shot out from Bola’s hands and pierced the point where the creature's heart should have been.