21 Shots Book Novels & Stories

I could not tell if the water on my face was rain or tears. I had no idea where I was going. I just wandered through the endless night, wrapped in the downpour. Suddenly, a blinding headlight flashed in front of me. The car kept getting closer and closer until I could not keep my eyes open. As the speeding car came at me, a wild thought suddenly crossed my mind. If I just let it hit me, maybe the pain would finally end. I did not move, just closed my eyes and waited for the massive impact to shatter me into pieces. However, the expected impact never came.

It was as if the other person was trying to totally consume the other person in their own way by fornicating. End of Book one.

Therefore, Miguel believed that the second option must be true, and it gave him hope that if they could get hold of this book, the spell it contained would surely help them contact Nadir in the Underworld and get the message across. - We have to find this book, at all costs.- Miguel was talking to himself as he searched the internet for places selling old books, especially on the subject of magic or esotericism. And he really did thought so - for Miguel was ready to get rid of all his savings, if only to get his hands on the book. Additionally, Nadir left behind not only her belongings and clothes, but also quite a lot of money earned while working at the bar. As it was all cash, Miguel gave

I repeat, urgency creeping into my tone. Wordlessly, he hands me the phone, and as I gaze at the horror on the screen, my blood runs cold, my heart halting in my chest. There, staring back at me, is a photo of my sister, a gunshot wound visible on her forehead. Beneath the gruesome image, a message reads: "An eye for an eye." END OF BOOK 1...BOOK 2 coming soon <3

"I bet she won't even hit the second one." The other contestants gossip behind my back. Let's just see. I took aim and hit the first target without any difficulty. The crowd cheered and I took aim again for the second target. I took a deep breath before releasing the arrow. Bull's eye. The crowd was cheering me on. It was time for the third target. The movement was fast and it was hard to keep up with it. I took aim and focused. As I exhaled, I released the arrow. The crowd was silent as they looked on. A thud was heard and when the target stopped moving, my arrow hit the bull's eye. The crowd was ecstatic. And with that, we were sent back to the locker rooms to prepare for the one-on-one co

I was caught in the crush of bodies, shoved back and forth like a ragdoll. Each jolt sent a fresh wave of pain through my side. Twice I thought the stitches might’ve torn open again. But when I finally made it outside, I checked. No blood. Thank gosh. Also no sign of Silas or Amy. They were gone already. My phone buzzed. An anonymous number. “Told you—you can’t compete with me. If it were you and me at gunpoint, who do you think he’d save?” Then another message came through: “I think you already know the answer. If I were you, I’d have disappeared by now.”

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.

His one arm tightly enveloping my body. Arthur smash his hand hard into the side of the cupboard retrieving a gun from inside the splintered wood. Arthur's reaction to the man rounding the counter is psyche, inevitable. He fire straight at the man with sharp precise three-round bursts that send the man falling to the ground. The other guy reach for Arthur's gun, but Arthur roll his hands down and away, making a quick swirl then his feet meeting the man's face. His head turn to the side from the kick and with a small snap of Arthur's hands around his neck he fall to the ground. Motionless.

SOMEONE'S POINT OF VIEW I was reading today's newspaper when I saw some very interesting news written in it. 'The Sharp Shooter: The Oracle's Pride' was written in bold letters. I smirked at the sight of the picture attached to it. A beautiful lady with fiery red long hair who is holding a very exquisite gun in her hands. She is aiming at the target with her pair of keen silver eyes. It makes one person lose their mind with a quick glance at this picture, and I must admit that I am no exception.

Ryker POV The game ends and we win, but it doesn’t matter. Not to me. Not when I know what really happened out there. The hit on Jaxon was planned. Not by one guy. Not just a moment of frustration or a fight over the puck. It was calculated. I saw it too late, saw how the entire team waited until we let our guard down. The second I step into the changing room, I rip off my helmet and throw it onto the bench with a loud thud.