Novel & Cerita Doors Blood In The Streets

I yanked the bag downward with all my strength, then drove my knee up, slamming it straight into his stomach. A dull grunt escaped him as his body staggered backward. He collapsed against the stair railing, his face turning pale in an instant. Brian recovered and rushed at me again. I did not give him the chance. I bent down fast and grabbed the metal cash box my dad had thrown aside earlier. Bang! The edge of the box smashed down onto Brian's foot. "Argh! My foot!" He clutched it, rolling on the ground in pain. I did not stop. I grabbed my backpack and sprinted down the stairs.

It scared the hell out of me. By the time I dressed—black suit, crisp shirt, the holster hidden under my jacket—I’d armored myself up. Pushed Ethan to the back of my mind where he belonged. Alex was waiting downstairs in the garage, leaning against my Audi with a smirk that said he knew I looked like shit. “Rough night, boss?” he asked, tossing me the keys. “Fuck off,” I muttered, sliding into the driver’s seat. He chuckled, climbing in beside me. We drove in silence for a bit, weaving through morning traffic toward the warehouse in Brooklyn. Alex fiddled with the radio, landing on some rock station that blasted guitars and angst. Fitting.

Levi Blood drips from my hands, trickling down my fingers like crimson tears. My shirt is stained, the white fabric soaked with the dark red liquid. I make my way into the tall building, a majestic skyscraper with a sleek, modern design. The ceiling made entirely of glass allowing the light to sip in unhindered. I'm pissed to the core as I make my way to the elevator, my feet grazing the polished graphite wooden floors. The metallic scent of blood lingers in the air around me, the trail of blood behind me as it drips from my hand and once white sparkling shirt.

The blood in the petals reacted, rising in red drops, swirling around her arm, sucking into her flesh. A tremor rang out from the earth. From deep below, the blood abyss shook. --- Inside the blood abyss, Lucien opened his eyes. Before him was an endless void of blood and souls, distorted faces, wailing calls echoing everywhere. Flows of memories rushed through like blades: war, betrayal, love, sin. He was lost among them, blind in the red night. “Evelyn!” he screamed. The call echoed back, lost, then dissipated like a strangled breath.

The previous night, after being shockingly stabbed by a machete, Ben was left gasping for air and bleeding heavily. How could he have underestimated that b****** Mapulanga? He cussed himself. He had never being this stupid. If only he could be given a chance to kill that fool, he would but looking at how things stood, he would be dead in a few minutes if the blood flow wouldn’t be contained. Damn, life flashed on his face. The k3 million wasn’t going to be spent. If Devi could play the game right, he would get it all. Screw Devi, he gasped for air even more. He was his bestfriend though. One only friend in crime. One chance, just a chance, he begged looking at the heavens.

Addiction is a vise clutching one’s arteries, venules, and veins, all the blood vessels. Even if they are filled with sinful cells, composed of nutrition from humans. His blood was as red as a human’s because in appearance they didn’t look different. Only he knew how black it was in levels indiscernible to the sharpest eyes, of his own kind, of vampires.

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.

“Different good, I hope? I’ve been… uh… working on my, you know, vibe.” He leaned back, steepling his fingers. “Your ‘vibe.’” “Yes! You know. More approachable. Less… uh…” I gestured vaguely at my face. “Intimidating?” That earned me a very faint smirk—gone almost as soon as it appeared. “Hmm.” The sound he made was not comforting. Servants moved quietly around the hall, pouring deep red liquid into goblets. One set a glass in front of me, and I froze. Blood.

The Bronx did not look like the cradle of a new world; it looked like a city losing a war it didn't know it was fighting. When Avery stepped out of the black SUV in front of St. Jude’s of the Asphalt, the air was thick with the smell of wet pavement and the ozone of a thousand idling police cruisers. The global "Blood Debt" had officially defaulted an hour ago, and the shockwaves were hitting the street in the form of "Red-Out" riots.

When he visited me one day, I stabbed him in the leg and ran off with just a measly fifty dollars. "Money?" I played it cool. "I don't know what you're talking about," I said. "Are you sure? You better think twice if you want to lie to me again, Cara Mia." He frowned as if I had upset him. The door opened and Jones walked in with a bottle of whiskey. "I guess you'll all have to manage this till Mr..." He stopped in his track and looked around the room. "Kathy?" He called. "Jones," I answered. Jones dropped the bottles on the table and gave a slight bow to the mafia leader shit!