Tales Of The Guns Novels & Stories

I saw the same chill pass over Luca’s face, though he tried to hide it. His eyes were wide, his breathing slightly off rhythm. I swallowed. “Luca… if those guns belong to your father…” “Then he was planning something,” he finished, voice low. “Something big.” The images ran through my head one by one. The polished black rifles, the rows of silencers, the crates of ammunition stacked neatly like he was stocking a store. Including the shotguns, long-range rifles, compact submachine guns, the kind that only appear in movies or in the hands of men who don’t expect to come back from the job alive.

They pulled off the lids , revealing your dozens of guns that sat in most of the boxes while two of them contained bullets for the guns. "Wow! This is huge and is even worth more than the soldiers he might have given to us. You know, I have once heard of this machine of the humans that can speak from a distance and I had tried to lay my hands on some of them but I didn't know how to go about it so I abadoned the thought. This was long before you were born. I had never imagined that I would ever come across it in my lifetime." He confessed to me with tears in his eyes.

He must have grabbed them from behind the building before coming in here. Quickly pulling them on, I scope out the building. It’s not very big, but I do manage to find a few shot guns, a rifle, and a handgun. “These boys really like their guns,” I tell Finn as I pile them on the counter. Finn’s eyes are wide. Looks like he didn’t go exploring after he took out the guy in front. We wait for Caleb and the sheriff to get back. Luckily, no one desperately needs stamps and we don’t have to deal with people coming to the door.

Conall began pulling knives, daggers, and guns from the bag. "Yeah... I know." Cinnia nodded as she counted the weapons Conall brought out. Conall eyed her cargo trousers. "Take this holster and wear it around your thigh. The handgun will be there. It's loaded with a lot of silver bullets. Do not shoot any of our pack members." Cinnia was about to shoot him a snide remark when she noticed the amused smile on his face. She chuckled and shook her head as she collected the holster and the gun. "I'll do my best."

We stay like that for a few seconds before I pull away from him. "Did you bring it?" I ask him, and he starts to nod his head frantically. "Yes, I did." He makes a gesture and removes something from the inner pocket of his jacket. He takes out a gun. "Is it in there?" I ask him, and he nods. "The bullets are made of thallium encased in grinded wolfsbane." Oliver says as he hands me the gun. The metal is cold and heavy to hold. Exactly how I imagined it to be. I hold it in my arms and flex it around, checking it.

Alex uttered seeing what is inside the bags. The first bag contained one hundred fifty different kinds of guns and the other bag contained fifty different kinds of guns together with the magazines of all the guns. All of it is come from the old business of Basil when he is still transporting firearms weapons. As he terminated his business, he keeps all the guns remained and buried it in the tunnel. Irish took a bath as she finished resting for a half of hour. She cleaned up also Maggie in the bathroom because her color is almost ash. It seems the two are already in good terms now, I guess so.

There’s something about gunmetal that smells like fear. Not because it’s cold or sharp, but because it holds a story in its weight—of what it’s done, and what it could still do. That’s what I was thinking when Natalia tossed a Glock into my palm like it was nothing more than a hairbrush. “You need to stop flinching,” she said, arms crossed, one brow raised. “Guns are not snakes. They don’t bite unless you make them.”

"Used to be. Gave it up when the stories started costing more than they were worth." That answer carried weight, the kind that invited questions but also warned against them. I set the mug on the low table in front of me and leaned forward slightly. "What kind of stories?" "The kind that get people hurt when they come out wrong. Or when they don't come out at all." I felt a flicker of recognition then, something tugging at the back of my mind like a half-remembered name. "You sound like someone who has been burned by the industry."

Please let me try. I promise if it gets too dangerous, I will get out. she said. Mario doesn't like the idea, and I don't either. But we have no choice. I thought. "Okay, Sarah! We do it your way, but stay behind me.'' Mario said. Wade! Get us some guns. They are in my secret department in my cabinet under my scotch!" he told me. I went under the cabinet I saw a lot of different guns. I found 45's and Colt's M4 Carbines, Remington 870 Shotguns, et. I grabbed the shotguns and 45's and Colt M4's.

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.