Novel & Cerita Riding The Bullet Book

The bullet must have hit the box, tore through the files before the photo albums stopped the slug from reaching Riley. She could even tell where the bullet had eventually been stopped, lodged inside a cheap album she'd used because she was too busy to find something else that summer. She thumbed through the ruined albums. Some pages were melted together from the heat created by the bullet's passing. Bits of paper puffed up in a cloud. To think, if they'd done one thing differently, they might not both be there. She glanced at Riley, staring at the albums. His wide eyes and raised brows said it all. Even he hadn't realized just how close they'd come.

I flung it hard, and it lodged perfectly into the rear tire of the first pursuing car. BANG. The tire blew. The vehicle screeched, spinning out of control. Metal shrieked as it skidded off the road. The men inside jumped out, firing in my direction. Bullets tore through the air. I leaned low on the bike, dodging every round, my own gun already raised. Two pulls of the trigger, two bodies dropped. Another tried to flank me, but I spun the bike sideways, firing clean into his chest. The fourth tried to crawl behind cover. I didn’t give him the chance. One shot. Silence.

It's high time I toughened her up as well. The humans Carla would encounter in my world are more dangerous than the animals she fears in this forest. “Stop! Get down now.” I hear a faint sound of air being split, and I know it's a bullet coming our way. I don't know who the target is, but no one among the three of us is dying today. Not on my watch. After I push Carla to crouch, we barely make it to the ground when the bullet passes where she was standing. It's obvious the bullet was for her.

Smith yelled in a panic, "No, Mackley! Don't shoot!" Bang! Mackley opened fire and the bullet flew at Wilbur. The spinning bullet was restrained by a powerful force when it was within ten meters of Wilbur. It slowed down and eventually stopped when it was just a meter away. Then, the bullet was sent back with a powerful airflow. It spun quickly and flew toward Mackley. Splotch! The bullet made a hole in Mackley's forehead. Mackley widened his eyes in disbelief before he died. His body dropped lifelessly to the ground. Wilbur turned to look at Smith and said coldly, "It's your turn now. How do you want to die?"

This could have turned ugly fast. Come to think of it, similar things have happened in the past. The pain of losing my mom. The horror of having my dad turn into a violent man in a matter of a few months. The burden of not being the oldest child but having to take care of Bailey, who can't find a decent man, while also making sure Bernie eats his food. It became too much, and...the bullying, the being mean...it took my edge off. It became a means to escape my own tragic life, and poor Emilie stood in the crossfire.

He pushed her aside, hopped behind the wheel, and took off with her GTO. Harlow leaned over me. "Cyrus! Say something!" Red and the others gathered around as well. I sat up after everything stopped spinning. "Ouch!" I said, rubbing the back of my head as the bullet worked its way out. "Where the hell did he come from?" "No idea," Red said. "There was one more than Madoc's henchmen said there'd be." "Are you alright," I asked Harlow, who looked a bit shaken up.

Survival was more than just pulling a trigger; it meant knowing when to pull it, who to aim at, and making sure they never got back up. Traitors hid behind expensive suits and fake smiles, knives ready to strike my back. But they forgot one thing: I played by the rules until someone played me dirty. And when they did, the retribution I served was tenfold. No one played me for a fool and lived. The cigarette had burned down to the filter. I crushed it into the ashtray, grinding it until the ember died. The tray wobbled on the edge of the table. My hand shot out to steady it, but the booze in my system dulled my reflexes. It tipped over, shattering into a thousand glinting shards.

ROSALVA'S POV ★ As I was going to slit Damien's throat. A bird flew over to my shoulder with a piece of paper in its beak. I took out the paper to check on what is inside, it was a letter written by one of my spies. My face squeezed in displeasing at what I had read. A mean frown edged between my brow. My heart hurts to the extent of my developing seizures. I felt another creature growing inside of me, the surging pains as my veins popped out.

That bullet was the only good thing that happened tonight. Through my closed eyes, the sound of Stella's sobs intensified, turning into ragged, desperate cries. It was music. My men immediately swarmed us, efficient and silent, and quickly got us into the car. The ride home felt strangely sweet, a perverse kind of paradise. Stella was pressed against me, her small hands frantic, pressing down on the bullet wound with a force that was probably useless but fiercely devoted.

~~~ Through the rearview mirror, I watch Luca. It is sickening how calmly he handles the absolute chaos. He twists his body around on the seat behind me, completely unbothered by the fact that we are flying down a highway at over a hundred miles an hour. He raises the gun. Bang. Bang. Bang. With cold, mechanical precision, he fires. The first enemy bike swerves violently, the rider slumping over before the machine flips, crashing into a fiery explosion against the guardrail.