Vincent From Pulp Fiction Mga Nobela at Kwento

Having a white witch by his side during all those years had taught him many things, especially about poisons that couldn’t be identified easily. When Vincent brought the cup to his lips earlier, the coffee never touched his lips. He pretended to drink it because he knew the coffee had poison and that someone was watching him. He searched the unnamed man’s jacket on the seat and found a phone before taking off from the diner. His fingers were fidgeting with the phone, scrolling the list of phone calls both received and missed. The unnamed man had seven missed calls from the moment Vincent arrived at the diner. He screenshot the list and sent it to someone else before he heard the sound of a f

he inquired. Mr Vincent was hesitant before he started muttering gibberish, I looked at Serena who had been trying to signal me, she put her arm Close to her mouth and made a biting expression, and it hit me. I waited for the right moment and then I bit his arm around my neck, I held on tight with my teeth until I drew blood. He pushed me away and then Silvio took his shot. He didn't miss and Mr Vincent fell dead in the water, the blood oozed out his brain and into the eager, waiting waves

“For his brother. For his sister. For his mother dying alone. He blames you. Says you executed his brother publicly, took his sister away, and left him with nothing.” Vincent didn’t react. He just kept walking. “So,” I pressed, “Is it true?” A beat passed. Then he nodded. “Yes. But it’s not the whole picture.” I stopped walking. So did he. “I knew his father,” Vincent said, voice low and calm. “We were friends, once. Worked together. Fought together. I wouldn’t be standing here if the man hadn’t taken a bullet for me back in ‘98.” “Wait, you really know him?”

The space felt deliberate, prepared. "Vincent?" Diego called, his voice echoing. Movement from the shadows. Vincent emerged, looking worse than in the photo—blood crusted on his temple, arm held at an awkward angle. Behind him, three armed men maintained a respectful distance. "Little brother," Vincent greeted, his usual smooth confidence diminished by pain. "You made it." "No thanks to you," Diego replied coldly. "Selling us out to Blackwood?" Vincent's smile was thin. "Is that what you think happened?"

“What has he done this time?” Vincent shrugged. "He’s one of yours. A rat. Sold intel to the Feds." I didn’t flinch but felt the rush of excitement to kill something. "You sure?" Vincent grinned and cocked his head at me "Oh, I’m sure. But if you don’t believe me, you can always let him go. Tell the other Pakhan Lords you’re getting soft." I chuckled darkly at his mockery and nodded my head. "Cute." Then, without hesitation, I pulled out his knife and drove it into the man’s throat.

And he definitely wasn't rabid. Scenes flashed by. His hunting, hiding from patrols, a flash of a figure in black... Wait. That was it. The rogue was at a small creek cleaning his recent kill when a hooded figure approached him from behind. I could only see a portion of his face, but I was sure it was Vincent. Before the rogue could react, Vincent was on his back and had sunk his teeth into his neck. When he was unconscious, I watched as Vincent dropped a vial next to the rogue that exploded into a cloud of red smoke.

Warning for r*pe Damian's pov ********************* The only good thing about being the head of the Mafia is the power. People fear me which means I can do anything I want. The best thing I've done with that power is get myself a whore. He's called Vincent and he'll do just about anything for the lavish lifestyle he lives now. I get great sex whenever I want and all I have to do is let him live in my mansion and buy him nice things. I take him with me when I go abroad to meet people or just on holidays on my yacht which he loves.

Sophia gave him a fake look of concern, "How did you get to this age with a brain like yours?" "Why you..." Vincent, furious, ordered his men, "Get her!" He then took a step back, brilliantly portraying the image of a gang leader.

"Enjoying your stay, brother?" I spit at his face, forcing him to punch me, then kick me multiple times. I wanna dare him to free me so I can fight fairly, but I’m too pained and too exhausted to even speak, let alone breathe properly. Vincent only stops his assault, when his phone rings, and he has to answer it. "I know exactly what I'm doing," Vincent says with a chilling confidence. "I can't give him an instant kind of death. He needs to suffer first."

I spot the door with the number two, throwing it open. The two half-naked girls all over him have wide eyes, but they merely jump up. I step back, giving them room to get past me. “Callahan, man.” He stands. Not for long. I strike him with a blow to the kidney, causing him to fall over. He groans. “I haven't done anything,” Vincent says around coughing. I grab him by the hair, pulling him back to his feet, and push him into the chair. “Are you sure about that?” Vincent's bloodshot eyes widen, and his pupils are full-blown. I’m guessing he’s done more than a few lines of coke on top of the alcohol.