Novel & Cerita The Crimson And The White

The stench of cordite and copper ink still clung to the silk wall coverings of the grand salon, but the blood had been sanitized. Two junior enforcers had scrubbed the parquet floor with industrial bleach, leaving a pale, chemical halo where Enzo Vanni’s head had rested less than twenty minutes ago. Outside, the pre-dawn sky had bruised into a dark, suffocating purple, the storm over Lake Como slowly exhausting its kinetic fury into a thick, low-hanging fog.

Some I know from my own pack, but most I'm not 100% familiar with. Mine and Nadia's group are staying in the Crimson Wing, which is all burgundy and red color themed., which becomes obviously apparent as we walk into the main area of the wing. All dark wood, black walls with wine-coloured accents, couches and an all-black kitchen including a black granite counter-top. As Nadia and I walk in, I notice 6 other wolves sitting around the main living area, mingling, and chatting until eyes are laid on me and it goes quiet. I get bows and nods of acknowledgement and respect

It was supposed to be an ordinary Thursday. Neera had just finished a client consult that left her drained — a petty white-collar criminal with delusions of grandeur and a habit of interrupting her mid-sentence. She needed air, something simple. Something human. So, against every rule in her carefully controlled world, she went grocery shopping. No assistant. No security detail. Just her, a reusable bag, and a craving for overpriced wine and fresh strawberries.

ILANA. The Blood Moon Festival came five days too early. On the third evening, the moon bathed its eerie, crimson glow over the Nightshade Pack. This was an event rarely experienced and considered by the pack to be a sign from the Moon Goddess, hastening the fate of two destined mates. The pack was in an uproar of joyful frenzy. The whole of the pack square hummed with excitement, as though even the air vibrated in anticipation. I faltered at the door to Rana's small cabin and brushed off invisible lint from the pale blue dress that Rana had lent me for tonight. "Rana, are you sure about this?" I asked, trying to keep the nerves from edging my voice.

I heard a low growl from Paul, but he kept mute with a warning sign from me as Kim spoke again. “The Crimson Wolves is a group of loyal wolves whose sole aim in life is to spill blood. In a more basic statement, the Crimson Wolves are warriors, fighting for whatever our Master says is right. We swear allegiance to only one ruler, and he dictates everything we do. As a result, we've been involved in numerous killings, notable among them being assassinations. Kings, Alphas, Betas, Gammas, Chiefs, Elders…whatever rank they may be, they are living. And living things can die.”

“The Phanton line has come to an end and a hybrid cannot rule the kingdom.” “I accept Princess tawny’s proposal. So, who here has the guts to challenge me for the right to the princess’s hand and the throne?” Crimson stands, face red and eyes turning from their yellow to the crimson color I love so much. His anger is palpable, and the vicious voices die down to disgruntled grumbles. “That’s what I thought.” Crimson steps back but does not sit back down, remaining by my side instead.

Heart beats fast. Igor leans on the wall. His coat is old. Buttons missing. He smokes. The smoke curls up like a ghost. Papa sits on the chair. Head in hands. His hair is gray now. More gray than last month. Igor sees me first. His eyes narrow. “Why red?” he asks Papa, not me. His voice is rough. Like gravel. “Red is for whores. White is better. She will look pure. Like she is.” Papa looks up. His eyes are red. Not from crying. From drinking. He rubs his chin. Slow.

With a comical gasp, she exclaimed, "Oh, is that crimson stew? I've heard so much about it!" Her eyes lit up with excitement as she leaned in, eager to share her knowledge. "Crimson stew is more than a dish; it's a culinary masterpiece born from vampire heritage. The key ingredient is crimson venison—meat from magical deer with a reddish hue, echoing the night's mystique. Marinated in rare herbs and spices, slow-cooked in centuries-old wine, and infused with drops of vampire essence, it's a taste of history and tradition, a connection to a world beyond our own." She describes the dish perfectly just like an expert connoisseur.

The future stretched before her like a radiant path, one she would walk with James by her side, their love growing even stronger with every step. The wedding venue was a breathtaking vision of red and white hues, a perfect blend of elegance and passion. Since red was the chosen motif, it dominated the decor, creating an atmosphere that felt both intimate and regal. Towering floral arrangements of red roses graced every corner, while white drapes and tablecloths provided a soft contrast that accentuated the boldness of the crimson blooms. The gentle flicker of candlelight added a romantic glow, making the entire venue feel like it had been plucked from a fairy tale.

There were no streetlights outside Crimson Hollow, so once night fell, this area turned exceptionally dark and foreboding. If not for the fact that this person wore all white, it would be nearly impossible to notice someone was squatting there. After a while, another figure approached, gave the person in white a hard kick, and cursed, “Damn it! We’re out on a mission and you show up dressed like this—trying to seduce a ghost or what?!” From a distance, the white clothes really did look like funeral garb—especially creepy in a place like this. The person in white scooted aside and said lazily, “This young master likes it. Mind your own business.”