Crimson Echoes Novels & Stories

Just the house breathing its heavy, mechanical breath in the dark. [D******D COMPLETE. DATA MIRROR STABLE. DISCONNECT TRANSFERS.] Dante slickly wrenched the cloning drive from the administrative port. The screen snapped back to its standard green baseline, erasing every trace of the Level Prime intrusion. He slid the heavy, warm black plastic drive into his inner tactical pouch, right next to the Rossi blood ledger he had extracted from the chapel vault. He pulled his black coat back over his massive shoulders, his face returning to that unyielding, terrifying mask of the Ghost.

Flashback!! Third person’s pov Bridget sat in the dimly lit hospital room, the sterile smell of antiseptic filling the air. Her mother, once vibrant and full of life, lay frail on the bed, her skin pale against the white sheets. The rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor punctuated the silence, creating an unsettling soundtrack to the reality unfolding before them. Bridget’s father, Xavier, stood by the window, arms crossed, his face a mask of worry.

He decided to clean up the house while he was here, he didn’t want to be idol and get the crazy thoughts that seem to be his new companion in his head, he didn’t like the directions his thoughts always takes, there was nothing positive about it and it sometimes even scared the hell out of him, he started by taking out their used clothes that they hadn’t washed before they left for the hospital, he could easily have thrown them away but he chose to wash them, after which he swept the whole house and cleaned every bit of them, even while cleaning all he could think of was Liam, he was everywhere in the house, everything he touched gave him flashbacks to something they did together, it made him

Kira walked ahead with grim purpose, her eyes scanning everything—every tree, every footprint, every glint of metal buried in the frost. Valerie, ever the wildfire wrapped in silk, hummed quietly beside me, one hand resting on her holster, her other playing with the end of her braid. I wasn’t sure if the hum was to calm herself or to taunt Death. The bodies were waiting for us, strung like grotesque ornaments on the rusted iron fence, a chilling welcome from whatever bastard thought this would scare us. They failed. But that didn’t mean it didn’t piss me off. Three corpses, mutilated beyond recognition. Faces slashed and peeled back, skin branded with crude symbols, symbols that made my stom

Jagged stalactites hung like a crown of teeth, some slick with moisture that dripped steadily into pools below, each drop echoing like a heartbeat in the stillness. And there, at the far end of the cavern, stood the voice. A figure cloaked in shadows, its edges shifting and rippling as though it was more smoke than flesh. It had no face that I could see, no eyes to meet, but its presence pressed down on me like a storm front filled with danger, edged with hunger. The darkness around it writhed, alive, as though it were part of the figure itself.

With a single claw, he traced the delicate pulse on my neck, and I sucked in a breath as he pushed his claw harder, hurting me, drawing blood. For some reason, I wanted to cry. I wanted to run from him, and yet I wanted to run to him, to bury myself in his embrace, to acknowledge the power he had over me, and yet trust him not to use it against me. I heard a pathetic whimper escape my lips as tears blurred my vision. Did he plan to kill me out here under the full moon? To make me bleed to death as vengeance for all the people killed by my kind?

CRIMSON “Do you know the story of the bloody werewolf rogue that was killed by his alpha? Do you know about that rogue that was hated by all of his pack and all the other packs that no one wanted him at all? Are you familiar with the story, child?” an old woman asked me while giving me a serene smile on her lips.

In his eyes, there is still the trace of desire from their passionate kiss which is yet to fade away. On the other hand, Mark, after recovering from his shock, looks at Blake. But then he sees the eyes of Blake which are glowing red. Before he can confirm it more, he suddenly feels his hands shaking, and gradually his entire body starts to shake, and then he feels the world fading away before his eyes and finally his vision darkens.

The brand glows red in the fire, waiting. Tears already burning my eyes. He walks around the bed slow. His eyes never leave me. “Tonight you stop being Volkov,” he says. His voice is calm and cruel. “Tonight you wear my name on your skin forever. Inside your thigh. Where only I will see. Where only I will touch.” I shake my head hard. “No. Please. No.” My voice cracks. As my tears fall hot. He pulls the iron from the fire. The wolf crest glows bright red. He kneels between my open legs. The heat reaches my skin before the metal does. He brings it close, I smell hot iron so I scream before it touches.