Danger Street Novels & Stories

“Damn it! Who the hell ruined all my plans?!” Murat snarled through gritted teeth. He was currently crouched behind a rack full of dusty cardboard boxes, his breathing ragged and labored. He wasn’t the man he used to be in his prime. Dodging bullets and chaos had drained him, and sweat poured down his forehead in thick rivulets. “Ugh!” A faint groan came from Diego, who lay beside him, barely conscious.

He embarrassed me and cast me aside. My phone began to ring, and I wasn't looking forward to speaking with whoever it was. Timothy Miles had been threatening me, asking for his money back since Diamond corp refused to pay for the contract. I did not want to deal with him in my current state of mind. I linked Norman to bring me a bottle of gin. My nerves were all over the place, and I was afraid.

Astrella Honey's point of view We went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat, peeling out of that hellhole with the engine roaring in my ears. I didn't care about the blood ruining my silk dress or the way the car jolted—I just clung to Dax. He was hurt, yeah, but the fire in his eyes told me he was still the most dangerous man in the city. Our guards didn't miss a beat, either. They boxed us in, two tons of steel protection weaving through the backstreets like predators in the dark. By the time we hit the rain-blurred neon of the city, I realized we weren't just escaping; we were regrouping.

He stood on the corner of a broken street at midnight, the orange glow of a dying streetlamp casting his shadow across the sidewalk like it was warning people away. Across from him, a man sat slouched on a rusted bench. Bleeding. Drunk maybe. Definitely wounded. His blood painted one side of his jeans, trailing down his shin. It had the coppery scent of fresh suffering. Damien’s mouth was dry. He swallowed hard, eyes fixed on the blood like it was the only thing left in the world. “Just one sip.” “You’re barely standing. You need this.” His jaw tightened. He wasn’t going to.

I unlock it and take off running. My limbs burn with each stride I take, and the sound of my heels slamming into the concrete transmit a sharp clicking sound through the atmosphere. I clutch at my neck, my fingers wrapping around my throat as I urgently attempt to fill my lungs with the tainted air of dirty money, drugs, blood and unconsented sex. The feral aroma embeds itself into the Mafia mansion, its repulsive scent lingering down the neighbourhood scaring families away from moving into the street.

He had to save the little boy! The drug dealers were all out in the open, calling out brand names, and even handing out free samples. Many people smoked crack or meth or injected heroin. They stuck needles in their arms, necks, and the skin between their toes. They were limp and nodding off. Some people lay on the ground looking dead. “I can’t go any further, sir. The alley is too narrow for my cab.” Matteo sighed and paid him his dues, thanking him profusely. “I’ll report at the local police station and bring the cops here as soon as I can,” promised the cab driver.

This whole situation convinced her even more that whatever Gabe did was very top secret. "All right," their host said, sitting in a large chair across from them. "Here's the situation. Miss Winters, we haven't met but you may be familiar with my name. Daniel Killian." Rachel's hand jerked in surprise, nearly spilling her drink. "DRK Inc., right?" He nodded. She dug into her mind to remember what she'd been told about DRK. Daniel R. Killian, Incorporated. A highly respected, low profile security and protection agency specializing in…well…almost everything covered by those two terms.

🌹 Damien 🌹 Damien’s grip on the steering wheel tightened as he pressed the accelerator, weaving through the darkened streets with precision. The city lights blurred past, flashing against the rain-slicked pavement. The briefcase containing the shattered remains of the hard drive rested on Aurora’s lap, its broken pieces a cruel reminder of how close they had come to uncovering the truth—only to have it ripped away in a single moment of chaos. The SUV tailing them was relentless, its headlights glaring through the rearview mirror like the eyes of a predator. Damien could hear the rev of its engine, the unmistakable promise of destruction as it gained on them. He knew the men inside wouldn’t

Another message came through. GILF: I’m not joking. Please listen to me for once. Me: I’m already close. I told you, I’m coming to get you. Oak Street District rose ahead of me, all glass and gold, designer storefronts gleaming. And somewhere in that glittering shitshow… her. Her security was here. Her family’s soldiers were here. Capone eyes everywhere. And I didn’t give a single fuck. Me: I’m here. Tell me where you want me, and I’ll come to you.

Nicole. Shit, Alex. I hurriedly wash off the blood from my hand and walk out ignoring the sore gash. Unfortunately, as soon as I open the door, a strong force roughly pushes me and I hit my head on the wall behind me. Fuck. I grip the affected area, repeatedly blinking to gain back my sight because all I see are fucking stars. The impact I hit the wall with is so severe it makes my head hurt. "Bitch, you thought I wouldn't get you" Ernesto sneers turning me around to face him. He instantly slaps me hard and I slip on the hard marble ground groaning n pain.