Riding The Bullet Book Novels & Stories

I could hear Adrian calling my name, Tyler swearing, Tommy saying something about a sound that didn't sit right with him. Danny leaned over me. Close enough that only I could hear him. "That's what happens when you act like you're something," he said quietly. "You're still that same scared kid. Always will be." Something ignited behind my ribs. Hotter than the pain in my back. I got up. "Lucky hit," I said, yanking my helmet strap loose to breathe. "Try it again." "Lucky?" He laughed and stepped closer, his chest plate bumping into mine. "Let's find out."

“You’ve got this!” Taking a deep breath, I steadied my hand on the grip of the gun. I aimed carefully, blocking out the chaos around me. The sound of bullets whizzing by only fueled my determination. I could do this; I had to do this. With a sharp exhale, I squeezed the trigger. The gun fired with a loud bang, and I felt the recoil jolt through my arm. I watched as my bullet struck true, hitting one of the rear tires with a satisfying pop. The van lurched violently, swerving as the driver fought to regain control.

No, he was busy riding bikes with Winona. After my mocking thoughts, I received a message from a friend about our school's annual reunion. She asked if I was going. I considered avoiding Heath, but then thought—why should I? I hadn't done anything wrong. I wasn't the one hiding anything. Plus, if Heath was busy with Winona, there was no guarantee he'd even show up. Why should I shrink away just because of their little drama? By the time I arrived at the reunion, Heath barged in unexpectedly, holding a motorcycle helmet.

"He says this clears the debt." She held it out. Julian reached for it. Crack. The sound was like a whip snapping. The rider’s helmet shattered. She crumpled off the bike, the Ledger flying from her hand and landing in the mud. Sniper. "Get down!" Julian roared. He didn't dive for cover. He dove for the book. Another shot rang out. Ping! It sparked off the asphalt inches from Julian’s hand. He grabbed the Ledger and rolled, groaning in agony as he hit the wet gravel.

Live or go insane but I don’t hesitate. “NOW!” Rourke’s voice cracks across immediately. Thirty-one guns raise and then hell begins. They fire all at once, the sound is deafening, a furious storm of bullets, splitting through the air like hounds let loose. Bloodbane laced tips. One touch on me and I’m fucked. But I’m already gone. I rotate through the air in a blur. The wind tears past me, bullets chasing behind like death itself. I twist mid-air, my knees coiling, and land on top of Rourke’s sleek black car. The car groans beneath me.

“Hang tight this is going to be a rough ride.” As if he needed to tell me what to do. I grab onto his waist as the bike’s tires burn through the asphalt. There’re so many questions swimming in my head, but the most pressing one is why are these people shooting at us? “Fuck!” Dante curses as one bullet whips past us, too close for comfort. Dante swerves hard just as another motorcycle whips past, the driver holding a gun trained on us.

I hear a bang and a puff of gun powder floats through the room as I watch the bullet narrowly whiz past me. Everyone stops and stares, before I realize that the bullet is ricocheting off of the frame of the door and is heading straight for me. Not being able to get out of the way in time, I feel a sharp pain as it enters through my chest and causes me to have trouble breathing. I hear Jordan shouting at the two men to get help and then everything goes black.

I stood and pulled out the gun, which was at my waist, and loaded it in front of Vivian. "Lay a finger on you? That's a waste of my time!" I suddenly raised my hand. This caused her to scream and squat down with her hands on her head. What she thought was the end wasn't. My gun wasn't aimed at her; it was aimed at the wine cabinet behind her. The next second, there was a loud bang. The sound of glasses shattering echoed in the room. The flying shards had even cut Vivian's waist, leaving a deep blood trail.

My heart slammed against my ribs, but my hands were steady. We rounded a corner. Three men at a table—maps, guns, beer bottles. One looked up. Luca fired first—silenced shot, center mass. The man dropped. The others spun. Chaos. Gunfire erupted—muffled pops, shouts. I dropped behind a crate, Luca shielding me with his body. He returned fire—precise, lethal. One down. Another. A fourth man came from the side—straight at me. I didn’t think. I raised my gun, aimed low like last time, squeezed. The shot hit his thigh. He screamed, collapsed.

We tiptoed in, only to be met with more chaos. The men were shouting, their guns blazing, and the room was filled with screams and cries. I saw Maggie's worried face and Matthew's angry expression as he fired back at them. But I was frozen, unable to move. I wanted to help but my body wouldn't listen. I knew I had to be strong for Jeremy, but how could I be? I was a bad boy, not a killer. And yet, I had to protect him. I had to do whatever it took to keep him safe. But as the bullet came hurtling towards me, I knew it was too late.