For Blood And Money Novels & Stories

She tutored like a teacher explaining the human anatomy to her student I opened my mouth to speak, but before I could, she chipped in again. “Or you want to report us to banks to lock our accounts? The same bank that knows most of our revenue comes from people's blood, lives, and sometimes sweat? The same banks we've stuffed money down their throat to shut them up? Or you want to put it on national news? The same ones we've bribed.” She got down from the desk, restless, stepping forward.

I rolled onto my side slowly and spat blood onto the pavement. My hands shook. My vision blurred. I laughed weakly. A broken, pathetic laugh. This was my life now. This. An alley. Blood. Fear. Debt. I squeezed my eyes shut. I needed that money. Fast. Faster than I’d planned. Because they weren’t bluffing. I knew men like that. I used to deal with men like that. And if I saw them again without the money— I was dead. It was only that simple. Dead.

“I was a woman of a certain age with no skills and a daughter to provide for. I thought… I thought if I just stayed quiet, it would pass. I thought you could handle it.” “I did handle it,” I said, walking toward her. I pulled a small, sealed envelope from my bag and dropped it on the coffee table. “That’s the deed to the cottage. It’s in my name now. I’ve sold the rest of the Laredo trust. Every cent of the blood money is gone—donated to the foundations for the people Laredo destroyed.” Elaine looked at the envelope as if it were a snake. “You… you gave it all away? We could have lived comfortably for the rest of our lives, Lisa. We could have moved to Europe. We could have started over.”

My heart sank. "However," Nico's tone shifted, and he pulled the stack of bank statements closer, "there's a lot more to this. You used far more than the little profit from what your father left. These streets have been in the red for years, and the extra money you put in…" "Almost two million dollars. This is your blood money. Your personal "gift."" "Gift?" I repeated the word, tasting the bitterness. "Yes, a unilateral gift," Nico leaned forward. "For him to keep this money, you would have to prove he used fraud to get it. Otherwise, by the code of the street, a gift is a gift. Not a loan."

He turned and glared at the other one who was still seated. "Where is my money, little Thawne?" I snapped my eyes back to the Handsome...Did I say handsome? When I left Snow Hill for New York, I found out a secret. On my dead father wanted to hide forever. He had used me as collateral. He borrowed some money from Alexander Tyrone, a man who was known all over the streets and probably the whole world. A Mafia Leader, not just any Mafia. The Italian Mafia as a whole. When he visited me one day, I stabbed him in the leg and ran off with just a measly fifty dollars.

If I offered you a million dollars for your blood, would you say no? "Name your price—hell, I bet you'd sell every organ in your body. You're just milking Vincent's love for a payday." "I'm a person, not a product," I said. "Why do you people act like money buys everything—even my emotions, my soul?" Emma sneered. "You're nothing. If you didn't have my blood type, you'd never have gotten near the upper class. "Let me spell it out—Vincent only saw you as my personal blood bank. Every time I needed a transfusion, he drained you for me.

During my three-year-old son's preschool physical, his blood type didn't match mine or my wife's. I had just printed the divorce papers when I suddenly heard my son's voice. [This disgusting man is so stupid. He's raised me, his own little brother, as his son for years and still has no idea!] [Lol, hurry up and get divorced. Once they divorce, I can cling openly to my real mom!] [And divorced men are unwanted anyway. From now on, every dollar he earns will be mine!] My wife was still anxiously explaining, "Honey! I really never betrayed you! Do you really want a divorce?" I looked at my son's tightly closed lips and excited eyes, then tore up the divorce papers instead. "No divorce. S

Chapter 21 – The Age of Blood Valenfort’s sky bled red, a wound that would never heal. Ash from the Seraphim still clung to the shattered domes of cathedrals, falling like blood-snow in the night wind. This city — once a symbol of balance between human and vampire — now lay in chaos, decay, and despair. Evelyn Cross had vanished. Her silhouette dissolved into the black light of the ritual that sealed Azrael, leaving behind a torn world. But her death was not the end; it was the beginning of a new era where blood became law, and fear the only religion left.

“No one is blaming you, we’re just complaining is all. And now that everything went to hell, we won’t even get the second half of our payment. And with how bad the slave trade is here in this country, we can’t even sell that bitch for much.” They all turned back and looked at me for a second, glaring at how hard I was struggling to keep up, before turning forward again. I sighed in relief as I had just wiped a handful of blood against a tree and hoped no one had noticed. The cut I made on my palm was already starting to pool some more, readying for the next target. With how much pain I was in, and how weak and dizzy I felt, having a clear objective was about the only thing keeping me going.

The person who looked at him wanted to slap him. "I don't have money!" Even if he had money, he would not give it to her! These people are living vampires. They won't give up until they suck your blood. "It doesn't matter if you don't have money. You look like you're still in bed. If I send you to the prime of your life, the money your father owes us will be enough!" As soon as he finished speaking, several men rolled up their sleeves and went straight to the girl. "Let me tell you, it's illegal for you to do this!"