Novel & Cerita Danger Street

*trigger warning! The following content might be triggering for some people* "Hey! If you don't help me, you'll die this very moment." The doctor was held on a gunpoint for the first time in his life. The voice was Noah's, he was drenched in blood. The white shirt that he was wearing was covered in blood but still, he seemed as dangerous as ever. He had a gun in his hand and it was pointed at the doctor whose car he had stopped in the middle of the night.

It took a minute of searching before she recognized the name—Londons. London's pub was even scarier during the daytime when it was used as a makeshift camp for druggies and homeless people. Jade dashed from the taxi across the nearly empty parking lot, getting soaked by the rain in the process. She wrinkled her nose at the stench of earth and urine as she hurried into her car and quickly locked the doors behind her. She used a dry piece of her sleeve to wipe droplets of water from her face before starting the engine.

Prostitutes stood next to the street, seeking their next customer. This part of the city was filled with strip clubs and many other shady establishments. The dim clubs were filled with all kinds of people doing all kinds of filthy things. Conflict was not news in this messed up place. Fights and gang wars happened frequently. As Kaze looked around, the Old District was filled with a chaotic and slate atmosphere. It was like a different world from the other side of the city. “Living in such an environment is dangerous. It’s not a coincidence that Brenda was kidnapped the other day.”

A group of rowdies spill from a bar, yelling and pushing and singing obscene songs. Cars drive past, splashing through ice-rimmed water, and over anyone incautious enough to walk too close to the road. Neon signs dazzle in the darkness, and in the distances, sirens wail. The night smells of fog and gasoline. Shelley fingers the coins in her pocket. So few of them.... And she's hungry. She spots a late-night diner across the street. Scurrying across, she passes graffitied walls and steps nervously over the outstretched legs of a bum, lying on a sheet of cardboard by the entrance.

The alleys had always painted a scary and dangerous picture of themselves, there were more than enough dark corners, where different things hid in plain sight, many secrets, imbeded in the cracked concrete walls, shadows, blended with the darkness, the only thing that couldn't be hidden was the stench of marijuana, coke, drugs, heroine.

“I am not telling Alexander anything, if that is what you are worried about. I don’t tell him about most things you do, he appointed me to be your shadow. Most times I come into town without anyone knowing, I see you and your boyfriend by the docks. I am happy for you really” The last words made Mae to scrunch her face in disbelief. “Happy for me?” She asked with every distrust in her seeping into her voice. Damian smiled and nodded. “How are you happy for me?” Mae asked him, looking at him suspiciously. Damian smiled. “I lost my sister to mafia men”, he started with a sigh. Mae looked at him with her mouth opened in an “oh” expression. “Yeah, she was just like you. Young and happy, filled w

Everything started on a seemingly ordinary night. The glow of La'Viraz's neon signs pulsed with menacing power, casting elongated, grotesque shadows across the wet streets. This city never closed its eyes, thriving on the manic heartbeat of nightlife, the murky business of drugs, and the chaotic jingle of casino chips. It was a place where morality went to die, and for Madison, it was the perfect hunting ground.

Carlos Cruise stared at the bloodied walls of the abandoned warehouse, his face a mask of barely-contained rage. The words “Nyx was here, don’t mess with the Hell’s Gang” were smeared across the wall in crimson, the letters dripping with the lifeblood of his fallen friend. The smell of iron and death hung heavy in the air, a grim reminder of the ruthless underworld he was now thrust into.

DAMIAN The drive is short, too short for me to settle the burning fury in my chest. Every second that ticks by is slow torture. Fingers clench and unclench, itching to swipe the steering from the driver and rage all the way there. However, I need to bid my time. It makes the punishment worth it. After what seems like an eternity, we arrive at the place. It is a nondescript warehouse on the outskirts of the city—a Bratva safehouse masquerading as an abandoned shipping company.

Dangerous. Patrons and staff of SubTerra used only one word to describe Jon Moretti; dangerous. He was one of many dangerous men who walked through the clandestine establishment, and yet Jon Moretti was the one they warned her about. Career criminals, thieves, arsonists, gang members, murderers… the club was a prestigious hub, built specifically to give these menacing people a place where, ironically, they could feel safe. A place they knew police officers wouldn’t be barging through the door to arrest them, thanks to a low-key business agreement between the owner, Frank Muscovado, and some crooked government officials with the power to sweep the booming business under the rug.