Read Blood On The Tracks Novels & Stories

He grabbed his gun from the ground with his right hand and held my hand above my head with his left hand. 'I hope you burn in hell!' I spat when he pointed the gun at my head. 'Oh no. You'll be the one burning.' A stranger's voice screamed from the doorway. A gun was fired when I closed my eyes. A heavy weight fell down on me and cut off my air pipe. I heard my father breathing out his last breath and tried pushing off the heavy body of my father but I didn't have the strength. I felt warm liquid over my left arm. My father's blood. He's dead.

I needed answers, and I needed them now. Tracking the bloodstains, I stumbled upon a scene that made my blood run cold. A figure lay motionless, bathed in a pool of blood. Denial gripped me, unwilling to accept the unmistakable features. Yet, as the figure shifted, our gazes locked, and reality slapped me with brutal force. It was Scarlet – broken, battered, and bleeding. "What!" I gasped, my voice barely audible as my mouth wide open in stunned silence. Time seemed to freeze, my brain struggling to process the scene before me.

Her voice was gentle but firm as she grasped my wrist with her fingers and gently pulled up, encouraging me to let go. Callie reluctantly leaned back, and I finally relented and followed her. I was covered in blood, my hands, my chest, and my arms were all stained with the bright red of Beatrice’s blood. I could see blood on Callie’s shirt, and I couldn’t stop my eyes from staring at the stains, the beauty of the shape mesmerizing me. The red blood had been in Beatrice’s veins not just twenty minutes ago and now it was painted across Callie’s chest, a Rorschach test for me to figure out the mysteries in my mind.

But under it, something older stirred. Fear? No. Not quite. It was instinct. Wolf-deep. The kind that rises when something unnatural enters the land. I moved ahead, following the tracks with Mira. Rowan flanked the left, Kye the right. No sound but boots against dirt and breath through teeth. Then it came, a smell, old blood, salt and bone. The tracks led us to a clearing half-sunken in mist, framed by dead trees. And at the center, Bones.

💿 Disc 2 Sub Theme : Walking Into Death's Alley (2) . I look at her again more closely this time and I can't believe I missed it before. Dripping down the side of her neck are two long trails of blood. They flow down her neck until they reach the collar of her white shirt soaking into it. My stomach coils at the sight of the blood and I have to fight back a gag.

They follow the same path we took. But that's not possible. I killed that thing. I watched it die. Unless... I follow tracks higher. They lead to flat spots. Good view of the whole valley. More stuff here. Dirt moved around. Broken branches. And blood. Dark blood. Almost black. Still wet. "Oh hell." "What is it?" Elara climbs up. "We need to go. Now." "Why?" I show her blood. "Because it's not dead." Her face goes white. "How?"

Disconnected. Almost every backup tracker had dropped with it. The faint signal Disha was coaxing back to life was flickering, barely there, like a candle fighting wind. “Come on, come on…” I muttered, eyes snapping between the road and the navigation display. By the time we reached the warehouse, my gut had already told me the truth. We were late. The front doors hung open. Inside, empty shadows. And blood. Not a pool, not enough for a fatal wound but enough to tell a story. Dark, fresh drops trailing across the dusty floor. The kind that came from a scalp split open by a brutal hit.

I take my hands to my eyes as I try rubbing harder and then my eyes, meeting the wrong way person I never want to think of. Damien. He stood at the front me, dressed in a stark white shirt that looked disturbingly out of place in this dimly lit space, trying to place why it was stained, then I saw it. Splatters of something dark red across the pristine fabric. Blood. My blood? Or someone else’s? My eyes widened in dawning horror. I instinctively rolled back, my gaze finding Tracy lying motionless a few feet away. She looked so small, so incredibly vulnerable, I could only imagine the terror that must be gripping her if she was conscious.

“A professional, then.” “Seems like it,” I muttered. “Follow the trail. Stay alert.” We moved quickly but carefully, the forest closing in around us. The tracks led deeper into the woods, the path twisting and rough. My wolf was restless, pushing me to go faster, but I forced myself to stay sharp. “Alpha,” Ryder said, his voice tense. “There’s blood.” My heart stopped. I followed his gaze to a smear of red on a tree. It was fresh. “Seraphine’s?” I asked softly.

No bodies covered with white sheets. Just an empty stretch of road in the middle of nowhere. My eyes scanned the area. “Spread out!” I barked. “Search the area! Now!” My men spread out, flashlights cutting through the darkness. They searched the roadside, the ditches, the woods. One of my guards approached. "Sir, we found fresh tire tracks. But no blood, no shell casings, no evidence of any fight." My hands clenched into fists. This was not real. There had been no attack.