In Cold Blood Novels & Stories

Matteo The scent of blood still clings to me, even after hours of breathing in the crisp night air on the drive home. It’s in my hair, under my nails, and the phantom weight of it lingers on my skin. I’m no stranger to blood, to death, to the sharp, biting thrill of taking something away that can never be returned. But today had been... messy. Two men, both Cerulli associates, both spilling information with their dying breaths. It should’ve felt like a victory, but it didn’t. Not entirely.

Killian’s POV The cold wasn't just an external temperature—it was a crawling, living thing that wormed beneath my skin like icy leeches sucking the warmth straight out of my bones. It coiled around my ribs, slithered down my spine, and settled like a parasite in my lungs, making each breath feel like inhaling shards of glass. But despite the frost biting at my flesh, it couldn’t compete with the wildfire raging in my veins. My blood boiled with something far worse than pain—something older and more primal.

it was so dirty and covered in blood that it was so hard to notice that this shirt was once yellow in colour. it had blood stains on a lot of places that it made her even more afraid of this man she called her husband. she brought her hands to her mouth to cover it as she moved back away from the shirt continuously and also away from williams. she could not bear to be in the same room with a killer because it was obvious that he had committed murder. he had killed james in cold blood, in broad daylight and at a dance studio in college for that matter and no one could do anything to stop him or arrest him because he had more power than anyone in the country.

I was dead. I had to be since I’d been living in hell for the past few weeks. Hell was supposed to be hot, though, and bright red with flames. The room where I was being held was cold and extremely dark. Even through the thin mattress I lay, I could feel the icy chill of the concrete floor beneath me. it seeped through to my bones—to my blood. Every cell in my body was thoroughly chilled. Maybe I could be better off in the real hell than this one.

Lucas was puzzled he couldn't believe he had slept with a total stranger, with his personality and all he found it strang and funny all together. Lucas has a cold personality, he is especially cold mainly to the female gender , thinking back in time, his father Mr Isaac lost his precious wife during childbirth while Lucas lost his mother at a very young age of five . Because of the experience he had to go through and also watching how his father was devastated at that period of time , that was when he said to himself that he wasn't going to have anything to do with the female gender because of fear losing something dear to him.

Sara. My breath caught in my throat as I saw the scene before me. The vibrant color of blood oozing onto the white carpet sent a shiver down my spine, and the metallic scent filled the room, making me dizzy with fear. Her body lay crumpled on the once-luxurious carpet, the rich crimson of her blood seeping into its fibers. Her limbs twisted unnaturally, her face locked in a silent scream. But it was the knife—deep, jagged, and still embedded in her chest—that burned into my mind. The air left my lungs as I took a step forward. “Sara,” I whispered, the word barely audible. My heart clenched as memories of her kindness, her sacrifices, collided with the brutal reality before me.

𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙥𝙩𝙚𝙧 2 "𝐴 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑙𝑑..... 𝐴 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘 𝑚𝑎𝑛..... 𝐴 𝑏𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑟𝑘..." Katherine That organ in my body that pumps blood and keeps my whole blood warm somersaulted and I took a step back. Alexander Tyrone leaned on the door in all his glory.

He's lying there lifeless in a pool of his own blood, his white polo shirt ripped off at the chest and fresh blood oozing from what looks like a fresh wound around the left breast. My heart stops beating for a moment as I throw myself on his body, picking the murder weapon which is a Ceska pistol and throwing it beside him.. Placing my ear on his chest, I feel his faint heart beat and my face lits up. I try resuscitating him without minding the blood....that's when the unthinkable happens.. Sirens rent the warm afternoon wind! It was a set up! A damn fucking set up! It's already too late to redeem myself.

A stone fireplace warmed the room to an almost stifling temperature, the fire crackling as he pulled her towards an armchair. "Sit." He positioned her in front of the chair and slid his calloused hand down her arm as she sunk into the navy and gold embroidered cushions. His eyes shone yellow in the reflection of the flames, the only source of light in the room cast deep shadows across the panelled walls. The gloom swallowed him, and a soft click of a door opening sounded from the other side of the room. He reappeared by her side with a small first aid kit. "You're going to treat my wounds?"

I didn’t need a blueprint. I just needed to follow the sound of the hearts I was protecting. THE END OF BLOOD AND BETRAYAL