The Bloodied Rose Novels & Stories

Lаmеntіng that ѕhе might nоt еvеr ароlоgіzе оr make реасе wіth her sister. I ѕроttеd headlights іn thе distance coming at uѕ. As іt аррrоасhеd, thе vеhісlе flаѕhеd іtѕ lіghtѕ and ѕtорреd. It was a whіtе 1960 Rоllѕ-Rоусе Phantom V White Lіmоuѕіnе. Thе rear раѕѕеngеr dооr ореnеd аnd my sweet Rose ѕtерреd оut bеfоrе thе сhаuffеr соuld exit the vehicle to hеlр her. Bеfоrе I соuld think, Clarette rushed раѕt mе crying оut her ѕіѕtеr'ѕ nаmе. I wа tсhеd thеm еmbrасе, Rоѕе nоw ѕtаrtіng to cry as wеll. Thе clean, cold rain washed over thеm, added to thеіr tears, kееріng them ѕаfе.

"Would you really that?" "I-I would." "What if I'd die?" "I wouldn't care." "You wouldn't, would you?" "Not at all." "But, my Love, if I'd die," he whispered softly, trailing his finger down her cheek, "who would make you blush this way?" "I-I'm not blushing," Ahankara tried to say confidently, but ended up stuttering, her voice hardly above a whisper. "I can see that," Yashvir smirked. He then leaned in and placed a kiss on her forehead, whilst she froze completely, her eyes fluttering shut. "Good night, my beautiful Rose."

The rouges paused when her sweet voice turned to ice cold “Well…well…well…you want to know what I’m gonna do?” She asked as she moved a step. Her eyes were glowing gold by now as she told them exactly what she would do “I will kill you and have fun doing it…” She said in a still cold voice. The rouge laughed and then shifted back to wolf form before lunging at her. Rose was quick to grab the rouge by the maw and rip him in half. Blood poured over the ground as she tossed the two halves to the sides. The other rouges growled and crossed the lake to attack her. Rose felt a sharp pain in her abdomen and a gush of fluid hit the ground and run down her leg.

Moreover who listens to best friend until and unless some problem arises. Putting a full stop to my thinking, I went inside the washroom, washed up and did my morning routine.... I didn't put any makeup for obvious reasons, as i have surgeries to do and just went with a light cream and a lipstick of light pink shade.... It's actually one of my favourites... Although pink is not the colour I prefer as I am not a pink person... Well, I am black person... Let's leave as soon as possible otherwise I would be late... I went out not before locking my house and tried to look for a cab or rickshaw...

*** 🦋 *** 🦋 BENITA CELESTINE 🦋 I found myself wading through a sea of crimson blood, the sticky liquid sucking at my feet with every step. The metallic scent filled my nostrils, making my stomach churn. I trailed after the blood, my heart pounding in my chest, unsure of where it would lead me. As I followed the trail, I suddenly came face-to-face with Rose. Her eyes gleamed with hatred, and her smile was a cold, calculated gesture. But what made my blood run cold was not how she looked at me, but what she held in her hands – the severed head of Nikita. Blood dripped from it, forming a small pool on the ground.

The blood in Roses, an organization built and funded by Harry just so he could enact his long plot of revenge. An organization that took several lives, both within and outside the organization, an organization that strives to reach medical and technological advancements, not for the good of the country, but to be used and facilitated for his sole desire to seek revenge against his brother.

I saw shapes moving in the distance. Others were coming. Their steps were heavy like the earth itself. “R-Run…” It was the voice. That soft, cracked voice. This time—I looked down. And there he was. Rose. Bleeding. A spear stood proud in her chest like it had conquered her. Her blood ran onto me, warm as life, red as war. Even now… even dying, she told me to flee. “R-Rose… get up…” I tried to lift her hand.

A white rose lay on the floor dripping with blood. A small, shiny blade lay beside it. A beautiful object in such a terrible and painful condition. The blood stain on it did not hide it's immaculate and beautiful nature. She puffed smoke in the air and took a sip of the liquor beside her, as she glared at the bleeding rose with sad and anguish filled eyes, it told a lot about her and her agony. She was as beautiful as the rose in front of her.

If there's anything I know about our world, it's that the need to relive your victory is far too great that sometimes the majority toss away common sense just to have the opportunity to gloat. I hope this would be no different. I hope I would be knuckles deep in some bastard's stomach by this time tomorrow. The attendant shakes his head, his entire face covered in sweat as he looks at me and looks away repeatedly. Fucking pussy. Yet, I don't blame him. It isn't everyday one could see a member or even two of The Black Rose without dying afterwards. But then again, it isn't every time one sees a member of The Black Rose in a fucking freezer.

If she could just find a way out…. A loud click. She spun. The door behind her creaked open. Not the hallway door. The panel behind the bookcase. A man stepped through the narrow passageway, dark curls damp with sweat, a gun in one hand, blood on the other. His shirt clung to his sculpted torso, open down to the middle of his chest, smeared with soot. But it was his eyes, those ice-blue eyes that rooted her to the floor. Alonso.