Kickstarter Bloodstained Novels & Stories

The twenty million credits are already locked in transit! The contract is null and void due to a material breach of the fraud clauses, the executive fired back, his voice dripping with pure corporate ice. Furthermore, our legal team is currently filing a multi billion dollar international fraud lawsuit against your primary financial backers, the Blood Moon Pack. We will reclaim every single credit we spent on your preliminary marketing, and we will see your entire lineage bankrupt by morning. The Blood Moon Pack? Killian whispered, his knees buckling slightly as the full weight of the disaster hit him. No... please. They did not know... I did not tell their council...

But under it, something wrong. Blood. Young. Unclaimed. They found him half-collapsed by a rotted log: a boy no older than sixteen, one arm wrapped in wire engraved with burning sigils. “Don’t—” he gasped, seeing her eyes glow. “They’ll find me.” Kaelira shifted back, skin steaming from the cold. “You’re bleeding on pack land. That’s already a problem.” He swallowed hard. “My name’s Taren. They said this forest was safe.”

But they brought me a blanket and hot broth. Alpha Tristan knelt beside me, gently placing a hand on my wrist. “You’re still here.” I gripped his fingers. “Still fighting.” He pulled away. “We need a name.” “Bloodborn.” My voice rang clear. Alpha Tristan frowned. “Name matters. Otherwise, it’s just rebellion.” “A title is a promise,” I said. “A warning. So, Bloodborn—born of blood, destined for more.” He thought a moment, then nodded. Lycan Xander lumbered over, face weathered. “Whatever you plan—I’m with you. Rogues, defectors, exiles—they’ll hear our call.”

Harris also halts when he sees what happened. “You should leave,” Stacey tells her brother as the black matter almost reaches her feet. There is a gunshot wound on Stacey’s leg now, the one that still has the huge shard of glass is still buried beneath her skin. It is now bleeding endlessly. “I can’t walk now, Stevie.” She says with tears and hurt in her eyes. “I will only slow you guys down.”

A radiant, predatory satisfaction spreads across his rugged features, making his dark eyes gleam with lethal possessiveness. Tristan is still pacing the cold floor, running his hands through his ash-white hair. "Kieran, you don't understand! These Bloodward Pills are the exclusive creation of the Ghost Alpha—that legendary, unnamed rogue creator who vanished into the Blackveil District years ago! The one every mafia family in Ravenshire City has been spending millions trying to track down!"

Samantha didn’t get the gist of what had happened to Zachary—Zack for short and what he preferred to be called—but she knew that Zack had been going through some rough shit since his accident—an attack upon his personnel by the rogue that worked together with dirty, filthy humans to take down the wolves in the sacred forest of Paphos. ’It would seem that you are not happy with the match, Sam,’ Scarlet asked as images were flying through her head. Samantha frowned, rubbing her chest as she remembered the imprint that had happened between them. The images… were not the ones that needed to be repeated inside her head, over and over again.

I blinked, looking back at Yvonne with a scrunched-up face, "I thought you were talking about vampires- how did you get to that rich, arrogant, cold bad boy again? He's all that, but you still call him eligible?" "He's not a boy. He's a man. Famous, handsome, yet frightening at times. Kassandra did tame him. It's a difficult job, so props to her," she says with a smile while I shudder at the sound of her name. Unable to take any more of her unnecessary information, Giselle got up from her seat, seeing that the sun had gone down. The street lights lit the empty, clean road outside of the cafe. A group of police passed by holding two children that must have been missing their parents again.

My eyes zeroing in on the floor, chunks of concrete were broken And full of flesh “I broke your floor. I’m so sorry I broke your floor” I tell drake as my sobs stop, my body trembles as he holds me. “Your worried about my floor?” He asks in disbelief, I nod, staring at it. “Those stains are going to be a bitch to get out” He chuckles “Don’t worry about it. I’ll have our people come fix it” “Like the mob have cleaners? Do we have special murder cleaners?”

She started trembling with fear remembering the way she was beaten up when she lost her child. “Now she is sticking her nose in everything and we can’t even steal money from here and everything I have done to take over this company has become waste by your stupid act. I killed that bloody brother of mine and threw her away so that eventually we get everything but now, you have ruined it all.” ‘Killed? They killed my father?’

--- They never did tell the world everything. The Ledger was never advertised. No campaigns. No hashtags. Just a quiet presence online, disguised as a nonprofit research project on intergenerational trauma. But the entries came. Slowly. Then faster. From every continent. Anonymous or signed. Some angry. Some shaking. Some so honest they hurt to read. Bianca and Sofia curated them together. Never changed a word. Just cleaned up typos and placed them in the correct section. One morning, they received one labeled “Vault #2 Survivor.”