Mud And Blood 3 Novels & Stories

Chapter 1: Blood Debt The warehouse smelled like rust and death. Luca Rossi stood over the body, chest rising slow and steady, the only sound in the sudden silence. Marco Vitale’s eyes stared up at the cracked ceiling, vacant now, blood pooling dark and thick beneath his head. One clean shot—center mass—then two more to be sure. Message delivered. Luca wiped his hands on a rag one of his men handed him, though the blood had already dried under his nails. He didn’t flinch. He never did.

I grabbed the hem of Felix's shirt, fixed a pitiful expression on my face, and mumbled, "I believe you, Felix." Felix's expression softened as he helped me back to my feet. Taking advantage of the fact that the other wolves' attention was still on us, I retrieved a document from my bag and handed it to Felix. "I accidentally recorded your pup's blood type as AB when I registered his information last time. The truth is, his blood type is O." Felix's face twisted as he snatched the document from me. An eerie silence descended upon the hall. Everyone knew that all the wolves of the Blackrock pack had type-AB blood, making it impossible for a pup with type-O blood to exist in the pack.

They just want me dead. I didn't stop. I threw myself straight into the rusted base of the perimeter fence where the storm runoff had eroded the dirt beneath the wire. I scrambled through the mud, dragging my useless left arm behind me, the sharp edges of the iron fence tearing through the back of my shirt, biting deep into my skin. "She's going under the perimeter! Open fire!" A volley of gunfire chewed up the mud behind my heels. I dug my fingers into the freezing muck, pulling myself through the narrow gap with a guttural scream of pure, unfiltered desperation.

Like we’ve been put through a blender and somehow came out the other side still breathing. “We need to leave. Right now,” Mud says. He gestures to the rest of the men—those not helping with Knox. “Clean it up. Everything. Before someone calls the cops.” Hunter, Soraya, Serena, and Finn follow behind the people carrying Knox up the stairs. I start to push myself to my feet, and Mud is suddenly beside me, helping me up as my head spins. “You hit your head,” he says, studying my face. “Yeah, well, a grenade went off.”

someone shouted. However, the Emberfallen man, now a monster, was acting strangely. After killing someone from Mudstone, he stood stockstill. When he heard someone speak, he slowly raised his head, and his crimson-colored eyes swept over the Mudstone team. Finally, his gaze stopped on Adrian. He then opened his mouth and blood sprayed out of it.

Alaric The smell of iron hangs thick in the air long after the clashing stops. The battlefield lies quiet except for the groans of the dying and the occasional whimper of a wounded wolf trying to crawl toward the treeline. Rain still falls, lighter now, more of a steady drizzle washing over the mud, mixing with the blood until everything looks the same shade of dark red and brown. My hands are still shaking as I grip my sword, though I already sheathed it once. I keep holding it like I might forget what just happened if I let go.

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

An outright war. Mud flying everywhere, everywhere hitting, fighting, defending. Screams, chaos rising into the air. No one willing to call it quits. "Don't you dare!" Eliot attacked one of the guys that threw mud at me. Sending to him and entire pile directly on his face. The guy spitting helplessly, spreading out the mud with his hands. "Oh my God, that's disgusting." I said, Eliot agreeing with me. Pulling me away right then. Our bodies heavy with mud, but that turning around only landed us more hits from the others.

Bright red blood blooming outward from between my thighs, spreading across the pristine white of my dress. “No,” I whimpered, pressing my hands against the spot, trying desperately to stop the flow. “No, please, not my baby. Not my baby!” The mud pulled at me more insistently now, no longer just an impediment but a sentient thing. It rose higher, past my waist, up to my chest. And as it did, I saw that it wasn’t just wet soil, but hands—countless muddy hands reaching up from the ground, grasping at me, pulling me down.

I kicked and hit at whatever it was holding me up, making small sparks fly. Something wet and hot dripped onto my face. I blinked rapidly trying to get the blood out of my eye. It stung from how dry my eyes were and it irritated the wound slightly. Another drop of something warm landed on my shoulder. Another drop dropped on my forehead, burning like fire. I shivered involuntarily as another drop of something cold and slimy dropped on top of me. It stung my skin and I flinched as another drop of something hot landed on my foot. My toes curled under the substance as I tried to pull them further apart to get away from the heat coming from the liquid. Finally, after what felt like hours, the pr