Doors Blood In The Streets Novels & Stories

“I’m going to kill you.” My shifting sent Joey and Anna into a spiral. “A white wolf. She’s a white wolf…” As expected from an Alpha, Joey was quick to snap back to reality. He gave Anna a nudge and shouted, “Run!” Joey put himself between us to cover Anna’s escape. There was no way I would let them get away with it. Blood must be paid with blood. I was right on Anna’s tail all the way to the street. Even on the broad street, she managed to lose herself in the heavy traffic.

JAXSON The sound of sirens cut through the night before I even lifted my head. Blue and red lights flashed through the broken windows, painting the bar in color. The smell of blood and whiskey mixed in the air. Damien was on the floor, barely moving, his face covered in blood. I could still hear my own heartbeat pounding in my ears. The door swung open, and the police rushed in. “Drop it! Everyone, hands where I can see them!” one of them yelled.

"What a coincidence. I live there, too. It's hard to get a cab now, and my family's waiting. How about I pay you 40 dollars, and you give me a lift?" Charles hesitated for a second. "Alright. Hurry up and get in. I've got something urgent to deal with." He would be foolish to turn away money. And he really did have something urgent. He wanted to kill me. All through the ride, Maeve kept texting me, pushing me to hurry, and my father called to ask if something was wrong. I told him to stay home and rest. I wasn't going to let him risk himself this time. On the security cameras, I saw the iron gate at my in-laws' place being forced open, and a group of burly men rushing in.

“Whoa. Wait, what?” That was the reaction I was used to getting from non-race-car-driving men. “Yep. Have you heard of The Streets?” He shook his head. “It’s an underground community of drivers and fans. We get together for the races once a year, and I’m the coordinator. Basically, I pick the locations for the races and inform the drivers and the community where to be and when. I keep track of road closures and police presence, and I make sure the drivers are safe and map out routes where there won’t be any cops.”

A crooked neon sign buzzed above the door: LE SANG VERT The Green Blood. His fists clenched. His heartbeat slowed — deep, deliberate, hungry. The wind shifted. Cypress branches groaned overhead. And the voice curled through his mind again, silk wrapped in poison: “You’ve taken your first taste, Rio… but you’re nowhere near ready for what comes

"Elsie, you owe me for making an appearance. I just put on a show for your dear brother, proving you're not just some reject." I felt sick to my stomach, like I had swallowed a bug. I clenched my hands and spat out, "Beat it." After leaving Daniel in the dust, I headed straight for the Starry Night Bar. I ordered enough drinks to drown my sorrows and downed them like there was no tomorrow. However, for some reason, the booze that used to dull my senses only sharpened them this time. Stumbling home, reeking of alcohol, I barely noticed the tall figure waiting by my door until I was almost on top of him.

My shoulders straighten anyway. “Even now you are alive,” I say to myself. “That must count for something.” Once I get out of the house, the small hallway is stenched with old cooking oil and mildew. My neighbour, Carmen, opens her door even as I pass by. When people expect bad news, they look at one with a concerned face, which is what she does. “Oh, Drina,” she says, in a low voice. “Did you not hear the sirens last night?”

The emergency doors slammed open with a metallic crash that echoed down the sterile hallway like a gunshot. They bounced hard against the wall, the force rattling the glass panels and sending a shiver through the night-shift staff already on edge. Cold, rain-soaked air rushed in behind the stretcher, carrying the sharp scent of wet asphalt, gasoline, and something metallic blood. Paramedics pushed Noah inside at a dead sprint, their boots squeaking against the polished linoleum floor. Water dripped from his soaked clothes in steady rivulets, leaving a dark, scattered trail that looked too much like a crime scene.

Some are hiding, while some are flat dead on the floor. Blood pools over the white tiles, the paintings, the walls, and the windows. Bones goes physical with one of Silas's guards, their grunts echoing as they exchange hard blows and kicks. Bones gets the upper hand, backing the guy against the broken window. He doesn't waste a minute to kick him off, and the guy starts falling from the penthouse into the street, his screams echoing. Even while I shoot, I still know the moment he crashes over the asphalt below. People squeal, horns honk, tires screech on the gravel, but I don't dwell on it. I fire hard and fast, taking down more men as they file into the penthouse.

Damon’s POV….. We found something, it was a trail of blood in the middle of two main streets, it must have belonged to her, maybe they didn’t have any idea that the blood dripped. My guess would be. She got injured or he got injured and knowing Dante. He looks to keep his bloody clothes in the boot of his car. And maybe that caused the dripping.