Novel & Cerita Inglewood Family Bloods

, but before I could speak, something hit me—like a bucket of ice water poured straight into my skull. Memories. But not mine. A grand estate bathed in moonlight. Lavish dinners where crystal goblets didn’t hold wine. Whispers about bloodlines and rival clans. A name: Lady Astrid Valemont—the daughter of Duke Corvinus Valemont, one of the most powerful vampire nobles in the land. And the worst part? I knew exactly where I’d heard that name before. From a book. Not just any book—Blood and Moonlight. My favorite guilty-pleasure fantasy romance. It was the kind of novel where everyone was broody, beautiful, and one emotional outburst away from starting a war.

They were my responsibility, and I knew I had to look their father in the eye and tell him what had happened to his sons. The farm seemed deserted, but I guessed that was mainly due to the rogue attack earlier. There was a group of Zetas moving all the bodies so they could be burned. None of them would get released or receive a proper funeral ceremony. I got out of the SUV and knocked on the front door. “Your Majesty.” Collin McGowen almost stuttered as he opened the door and his face paled as he looked at me. “Mr. McGowen, may I please come inside?” I asked him.

He collected the paper from my hand and went through the names. Maybe I was ovulating but being close to him in a space like this was doing things to my stomach. Yes, it was the way the dim light highlighted his muscles in his tight shirt. He raised his head, snapping me out of my thoughts. “This is the only name that rings a bell. The family of Sunderland. Micheal and Mitchelle Sunderland's were nobles whose riches were traced to my grandfather's time. They mostly kept to themselves until their only son stood against my father during his time. He was a pain in my father's neck and the only opponent who gave my father sleepless nights. But something happened and he killed himself.”

She regretted her previous action. Lord Kruger held her, while the others held her father and siblings. Even her aunty that had come to join them. They were also pleading. Her father looked horrified. "I am sorry." Luciana cried. "Please let her go. Have me." She begged. The vampire lord paid deaf ears to the family's pleas, and he had the woman killed while the family watched. "Noooo!" She cried. "Get away from me." She kicked, wanting to get to her mother, but her reaction seemed to amuse the vampire Lord.

"It's mine!" "That child is of the Colt family bloodline!"

"You're spitting blood! Don't you know the reputation of your He and Nie families? Don't you think others know? Now that you're here in our Ford family to play this kind of trick, are you playing dumb too much? Have you really become a fool, or are you stupid to begin with?" The Ford family Elder scolded the He family's Elder angrily. "You're against each other. If you want to fight, then fight. Aren't you afraid of blushing when playing these tricks?"

James just couldn’t pinpoint why the name was familiar. “Gingham? That’s the name of one of the older families in the Fort Granger Pack. The last one left before Dean or I were born. Really? How old was that guy?” Trisha looked at him, wondering how a Gingham got involved with all of this. Kidnapping? Black market blood sales? This created more questions and solved absolutely none. “Old, and looked like he’d been giving his blood or having it stolen from him for a long time by the state of his body. I don’t get it. If he were giving it up willingly, I want to know what he thought was important enough.”

Sandra. Her family hadn't just stepped into the mansion to claim Adrian’s bed as a second wife. Her bloodline was the very hand that had cut my parents' vehicle to pieces on that highway two years ago. They weren't just high-society vultures; they were the murderers who had put me in the gutter. A low, pathetic snore groaned from the very back of the SUV. I turned my head, my dead gaze looking over the leather seats toward the trunk space. Julian Vane was still lying back there, his body curled into a tight knot on the carpeted floorboards, his infected arm wrapped in bloody gauze, his mechanic’s jacket still smelling faintly of The Silver Diner's old canola oil. He was sleeping. I looked ba

As we faced each other, he reached into my holster, drawing my blade—the one adorned with the Capone emblem. The blade's polished steel catching the ambient light in the room. The Capone emblem gleamed, a symbol of our family's legacy etched onto the hilt. Dad extended the knife toward me, handle-first, a silent invitation to partake in the blood pact. Our eyes locked, understanding passing between us. Without uttering a word, I took the blade from his hand. I pressed its sharp edge against the palm of my hand. The small bead of blood welled up on my palm from the shallow cut. My gaze remained fixed on the droplet, symbolizing the gravity of our commitment. Dad mirrored my actions, slicing h