Lance Pulp Fiction Novels & Stories

It is ajar, just enough for her to glimpse inside. Lance sits slouched on the sofa, one arm hanging loosely over the armrest, a glass in hand. His shirt hangs open, buttons undone, exposing a chest sculpted with lean muscle. The sleeves are rolled high, veins visible beneath his skin, his forearms tense even in his drunken sprawl. In his other hand, a cigarette burns low, smoke curling lazily upward. The table beside him is littered with half a bottle of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the dim light. His head is bowed, heavy, like a man weighed down by ghosts.

"I would love to have sex." I pushed everything off the table, clanking as the cups and phones hit the floor. I pulled her up the table, and we started making out. Lips locking, tongue tangled. I lifted off my shirt, and she let down her hair, our bodies melting with each other's heat. Her moans were music to my ears, and her warm breath felt good on my skin. Pain hit my chest, and I glanced down to see a dark blue and black lance with the circumference of a basketball. It had pierced my heart. I looked up to see Lana melding with the lance. It had ripped through her as well.

"You've already made a mistake—don't make any more!" "What the hell am I talking about?" Lance roared. "I have evidence to back myself up!" He threw off his jacket, and countless photos of a man and a woman being intimate were scattered everywhere.

My heart thuds, both from fear of how this will end and from something else I can't name. “Oh. The pretty boy’s here.” He grins, showing his misaligned teeth. “What are you gonna do, huh? Pretty boy?” he asks, his strange accent making matters worse. Lance takes one step forward. Looking him dead cold in the eyes. “I won't be able to repeat myself for the third fucking time. Shithead” he says, his voice cold and firm. “I’ll bury your entire fucking bloodline of stinking loyalty if you don't move that muddy hand.”

I watch as Luciano portrays indifference to his tears, he doesn't even try to forgive him or hear the man out. A scream tears through my throat as I watched Luciano slice the man open with a gleaming blade from sternum to his pubic bone, a little bit of blood splashing onto his face and shirt. For a moment, nothing happened, and the man simply stared in confusion. Then he arched forward, and his bowels tumbled to the floor with a resounding splash. Bile flooded my mouth in a wave, but I swallowed it down—despite trembling to the core.

“She didn’t know how deep I was in. How bad things had gotten.” Knox shifted, gripping the club tightly, his knuckles whitening. “There was this guy—Lance. A real piece of work. He and I ran together for years. Did a few jobs, made a bit of money. It wasn’t glamorous, but it kept me fed and out of the gutter. Anyway, Lance had this brilliant idea to rob a high-end jewelry store. It was supposed to be easy—quick in and out, no one gets hurt.”

I can sense that someone else is in the room, and I shift in my bed, forcing my sore and battered body into a sitting position. “Morning, sleepyhead,” Lance calls from the corner where he sits in an armchair. “How do you feel?” he continues, lifting his gaze from the tablet in his hands to meet mine. “Like I just survived hell,” I answer, reaching out for the black coffee and gulping it down. The liquid is hot, but the caffeine is needed after the last few days I have suffered because of my rut. “Well, technically, your body was trying to burn you,” Lance jokes with a chuckle, making me roll my eyes at him.

there was a wicked smile on his face. And then, he punched my whole face and pushed me across. I got up in time but that sucker was too fast to get caught.. Then he reached Aura and was crying with her mouth taped. This made me so furious. Pauline jumped to attack him with her magic but he dodged it. And caught Pauline with her neck, throwing her on the floor like a piece of trash. This action surely made Lance crazy and he plunged hard on his chest but the sucker dug his nails in his skin and poisoned him, then threw him..

He was already feeling guilty for not telling the truth, but he became angry with Fernand’s arrogance. “Who are you to say that I’m lying? Were you there? Oh, I forgot. I wouldn’t be there if you had the guts to go there in the first place!” Lance had a sharp tongue and would never succumb to someone he hated. “If I said it fell off the cliff, that’s that. You can go to the bottom of the cliff and get it back if you want! Do you think I don't want the beast? Do you know how amazing the meat is?”

Lance crouched in front of him. Close enough to look him in the eyes. For a moment, the courtyard held its breath. The old man sobbed harder. Lance stood again and took the knife Marcus casually offered him. Ragnar moved a step forward instinctively. “Enough.” Marcus blocked him with one arm, smile never fading. “Watch.” What followed was fast. Too fast. Lance struck with brutal precision, dropping the man before he could even scream properly. The knife flashed once, then again, each movement efficient and merciless. There was no rage in it, no wildness—just skill sharpened into cruelty.