His Bloody Project Novels & Stories

"How? Do you mean Zach Howe? That useless trust fund brat? Has Ethan completely lost his mind? Has Tara eaten away at his brain? Associating with someone like him? Haha! Well, it won't be long before Ethan's name disappears from society entirely." Zach was not just a spoiled rich kid. He was dangerous and had blood on his hands. Ethan playing in his territory would leave nothing but scraps of bone behind. "Aren't you even a little curious why he's doing this?" "I'm not curious. His business isn't mine. Alright, I've got things to do. Hanging up now."

I watched him as he walked out of my penthouse with determination and urgency in his steps and knew that he was going to make everything go smoothly as he usually does. I rest back against the couch I was seated on, closed my eyes, and smiled. If she thinks that she could just escape my clutches like that, then she’s got to think twice about that. But then the next minute, a frown replaced the smile on my face, as my thought drifted to the dangers that she was about to face soon. From past histories, the previous Blue Bloods weren’t able to overcome all the challenges they faced from the moment they were discovered before they were eventually killed.

The timestamp was from early that morning. My hands began to shake. Don’t let her find out. Find out what? My heart thundered. I went through the message thread, scrolling up and there it was. Conversations between Liam and Harper. Mentions of my blood. Of a “procedure.” Of something called Project Reclamation. I couldn’t breathe. I read the words again and again, hoping they’d rearrange into something else. But they didn’t. He’d taken my blood. He’d lied. I stumbled back from the desk, pressing a hand to my chest. For a moment, the room spun. The betrayal wasn’t loud, it was quiet, like a knife sliding through silk.

Blood spills across the dirt. “You don’t say shit about her,” Ghost growls, eyes burning. The gun clatters to the ground beside the body. “What the fuck have you done!” Echo’s voice cuts through the chaos, and Ghost doesn’t even flinch. He takes a step back, glancing at the blood on his hands, the blood on mine. Then he looks at Echo. At Knox. At me. “Keep the cut,” he says, voice flat and final. “I’m fucking done.”

The one I'd been carrying in my jacket pocket since the day we left Iron Valley. The last sample of my blood that existed outside a laboratory. I held it up. Let him see it. "This is what your bosses want. Raw. Unprocessed. The real thing. You want leverage? I'll show you leverage." I threw the vial against the wall. It shattered. Glass exploding. Dark liquid spraying across concrete. My blood. The thing Marcus came for. The thing the Bloodline Project had been chasing for three years. Running down the wall and pooling on the floor like spilled wine.

His vociferation mingled with the human death scream and it sent a bone-curdling chill throughout the air, penetrating everything it came in contact with. His face was covered in blood and his movements were a blur to Silver. Alaric finally stopped, looking like a demon from the underworld. He was drenched completely in the blood that his long hair was matted to the side of his face, blood trickling down into the deep red rug he stood on. He licked the blood from his lips, his eyes, a burning flame.

Blood flooded the front of her body and her white hair was now dyed red. The only thing they could do now was to wait until the people who were going to pick them up realize this mess and came before the situation really got out of hand. Without any lighting, the place looked very tense coupled with the female vampire who had lost control of herself and was filled with thirst. The seconds seemed to go by so slowly. And when the people, who supposed to pick them up, arrived, in two black vans, which then stopped right in front of Kyril and Dom, a person got out of one of them. Someone they didn't expect at all.

When she walked in to the loving area, the first thing her mind registered was the pungent scent of rusted metal—no—blood. There he was in the middle of it. He was unbuttoning his stained dress shirt with a cold but calm demeanor. His expression was blank and he looked like a demon ascended straight from hell. His black leather shoes were sole deep in the pool of blood that that at his feet. Rain stopped in her tracks and a scream lodged in her throat. Alexander took the shirt off and handed it over to Enzo who stood right next to him. Enzo’s expression mirrored Alexander’s . They both peered down at the scene in front of them, one Rain knew Alexander had created.

In Mafia business, there isn't any kindness left to show Just fight, cruelty and blood... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. . .. .... . .. . .. .... . .. . blood.

Blood. Dread settled over me like a heavy shroud. The once serene garden now bore the threatening mark of violence. I knelt down, scrutinizing the crimson stain on the ground. Fear coiled in my stomach, and the silence of the garden seemed to echo with the ominous weight of the unknown. Zoey's disappearance had already been a challenging situation, but the presence of blood escalated the situation to a new level of urgency. Every worst-case scenario raced through my mind. I couldn't lose her. Not after all she had been through.