Does Vincent Die In Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

This kind of luxury had never been his, not even before the world ended. Resentment tightened his throat. At the corridor entrance, he spun around and glared at Cyrus. "Cyrus, you broke your word. One day, you'll pay for it." Cyrus met his gaze without emotion. Vincent let out a bitter laugh and turned away. Cyrus watched him for several seconds. Then he raised the gun. The gunshot left a neat hole straight through the back of Vincent's head. Brain death came instantly. His body crumpled in the corridor.

Damian's pov Wednesday 23rd June 2021 ********************************* The loud gunshot makes my ears ring. I open my eyes and see Vincent's dad fall to the floor with blood pouring out of his neck. I turn to the side and see Giovanni propped against the wall with a gun in his hand. He's so pale and covered in sweat as his chest heaves but he still killed him. He's saved us while all on the brink of death. I look to Vincent and see him smiling at his dad as he chokes on his own blood. His body falls still as the tension in the room grows. None of the security guards seem to know what to do and I see the realisation cross Vinny's face.

Vincent squirmed on the floor, dragging his body toward the corner. "You can't run." Tammy straddled him, pinning him down. Vincent's body trembled, his hands flailing weakly as urine soaked through his pants. Her ears shut out his pleas. She had no intention of stopping. "Die! Just die!" She stabbed him, over and over in his chest. Vincent's body jerked with each thrust until the movements slowed, then stopped. Blood pooled beneath him, dark and glistening. "I'm finally free! Hahahaha!"

In my line of vision stood Fiona who had run out from the trees and had aimed at me, releasing the bullets with a quick, energetic flick of her index finger. I soon saw a body block mine, then a pair of arms wrapped around me before the bullet could reach me. I felt the body jerk towards me as if stunned, then go rigid, while tightening its grip on me. I looked into Vincent’s watery eyes and saw the life, emotions, and color slowly drain from his face as he fell to his knees and then to the floor. It wasn’t the force of his impact that knocked me off, it was the horrible shock of seeing him die in front of me.

She was positive that it could be Cedric came to rescue her. The more that footstep got closer, Virginia started to feel safe. She woke up from her seat and tried to welcome Cedric. “Well hello, Virginia. Your play time is over!” It was not Cedric but Vincent pointing out his gun at Virginia. “No way…” Virginia was shocked. She could not move nor speak more. “I am the one who killed your pawn. Too bad Miller failed to kill Cedric, but I refuse to fail my mission to kill you!” Vincent’s killing intent was written over his evil face.

The cold silence got break by Maria's painful wails when she saw a pool of blood on the bed's white sheets. She's panicking after seeing their Master Vincent isn't moving anymore. No matter how one looks at it, he's now just a piece of an empty container. She quickly went out of the room and asks for help. The tragic end of Vincent's life happened the last night after he cuts a deep wound on his wrist with a sharp dagger. That night, he died slowly as the painful thoughts drowned him into the depths of depression.

Then someone else's voice, tinny through the recording: "What do you want me to do?" "Handle it. Permanently. Make it look like an accident. Drugs, despair, a sad end. No one will question it." Elena's hands shook. David Chen. The man who died. This was it—Vincent ordering his death. She listened again. And again. And again. But the more she listened, the more she noticed what wasn't there. Vincent never said "kill him." Never said "murder." He said "handle it." "Permanently." "Make it look like an accident."

He didn't see me pull out the small knife I had hidden in my sleeve—a blade I'd sharpened to razor precision. My blade pierced Vincent's neck in one swift motion, finding his carotid artery with surgical precision. The person I couldn't kill three years ago, the source of my three-year nightmare, the monster who had tried to destroy me. Now I had killed him. Vincent's eyes went wide with shock and disbelief. His hands flew to his throat, trying to stop the blood that poured between his fingers. "How—" he gurgled, staggering backward. Vincent's artery was punctured. He stared at me in disbelief as he collapsed, his life draining away onto the concrete floor.

"Enjoying your stay, brother?" I spit at his face, forcing him to punch me, then kick me multiple times. I wanna dare him to free me so I can fight fairly, but I’m too pained and too exhausted to even speak, let alone breathe properly. Vincent only stops his assault, when his phone rings, and he has to answer it. "I know exactly what I'm doing," Vincent says with a chilling confidence. "I can't give him an instant kind of death. He needs to suffer first."