A Killers Mind Novels & Stories

Her life was if as stuck on a point. A point where the killer is still out there somewhere, waiting in dark for a perfect moment to attack. After such a long time Zara was afraid. She was afraid that the killer’s target might her mother or her friends. She didn’t cared much for herself but she wouldn’t be able to stand if her loved ones got hurt because of her. The anger and fear of the killer took a toll on Zara’s mind. The other day she almost killed Gina at her place when she was going to smash a glass vase on the back of her friend’s head as she hallucinated the killer in the place of killer.

One Mathew was willing to dispose of after she did his biding. "Then who is the threat?", her head tilted unconsciously, scrutinising his every move. "Alpha Damien Anderson, of the Blue blood pack" he growled. Andrea noticed how his fists clenched, his eyes glazed over – his wolfs anger giving away his hatred. "They will kill me the moment I succeed", the alpha before her smirked knowingly at her words. Alpha Damien of the Blue Moon pack was the most ruthless Alpha in centuries and Mathew was certain his people would hunt her down if she succeeded. If she failed then he would certainly kill her himself.

“I wouldn't be so sure. I can tell, just from talking to you that you're a girl that cares deeply, a girl that loved her friends and wanted the best for them. That is not the sort of girl that kills people.” “How would you know?” Her voice had steadied, and her practiced ennui had returned, just a little. Byron was glad to see it. “I write about killers for a living and have interviewed my fair share. Most of them admit to what they've done, even revel in it. The few that don't, well, it's pretty clear just by talking to them that they're either mentally ill or lying.” “Maybe I'm crazy?” “You don't seem crazy.” “That's because you haven't heard my story yet. When you do, you'll be calling th

I half got up from my seat with the intention to move towards her and help in any way I could, but at that moment her eyes snapped open and I saw how truly bloodshot they were. “Don’t,” she murmured, the pain she was feeling bleeding through that single word. My skin tautened as her words fell on my ears, but I obeyed and an eternity seemed to pass as she shut her eyes once more to ride through the rest of the pain while I watched on mutely. It gave me time to think on what I had learned yesterday from my grandfather while he was preparing me for my meeting with Evangeline Fairley. According to him, Mind Workers, despite their apparent prowess, had to thrive on subtlety as each individual mi

I had already made my choice. Maybe I'm a psycho, but he made me his psychopath. But I wasn't going to stop killing until I get to Rarf. I need to end this. He needs to die. As soon as we arrived home, I strode to my room and made sure the door was locked, meaning no one in, no one out. My heart was heavy. Rarf found me before I could. I spent all my life searching for him, killing men like him; the mafia just to get better so that if I find him, he will be dead before he can even think. I was kicked out of the place I called family because of my stupid mistakes. They taught me basically everything I know; how to think fast when in a murder situation, how to hold a gun and how to have the pe

Ever since I was little, I knew my mom didn't want me. My dad, though, kept telling me that she loved me, but some complicated stuff was keeping her away. He said that once I grew up, I needed to find her and claim my place in her life. I always figured he was just making things up so I wouldn't grow up resentful of the motherly love I never had. Then the debt piled up. Dad was scrolling through TikTok, looking for any way to drum up sympathy online, when he suddenly let out a wild yell. "Scrappy! Look, it’s your mom! Pack your stuff, we’re going to find her!" I stared at the screen. The woman in the video was stunning, effortlessly poised, and dripping in old-money elegance. A cold pi

I said and he was shocked for a while, not because I saw his cameras but because he never thought I would be so jovial and free. But after a while, he continued "Throughout the night I thought of who it might be, I even thought it was my brother but shook it off as I never told him where I live and he is only good at fighting not investigation" he paused before looking my way and added "That was when my thought suddenly flashes on the people in the Lorrids that is good in fights and also advanced in investigations" he looked away. "That was when you think of us? The killers?" I asked. "I shook the thought away also because the only killer who knows of my existence is Jim but he would rather

The man was pale and shaking, terrified by the sudden teleportation. "Dr. Clark," Ethan’s voice was chillingly cold. "Clara's private physician." "I… I didn't do anything wrong…" the doctor stammered. "Didn't you?" Ethan grabbed his collar, his eyes glowing red. "Then let's have a look at your memories." The vampire's mental power was absolute. The doctor’s pupils dilated, his expression going slack. "Tell me, is Clara's heart condition real?" "No… it's not…" the doctor answered robotically. "Her heart is perfectly healthy… There was never anything wrong with it…"

“So you the brains behind Joshua. It’s fine. I will do it, but under one condition: if you give me the name of the hacker Joshua is using.” “Fine, his name is Ghost. He will call you,” she smiles as he attempts to grab her hand and kiss her; she pushes him away. “Do that with Winter, not me.” She turns around and walks out the door. “Hey, Mr. X, give me information on the guys who attempted to kill Winter.” “Sir, they are known as the Killers. They are contractors; they were not shooting at her. They were shooting at you.” “Why me?”

The memory resurfaced instantly. Too rehearsed. Too perfect. Too convenient. "He knew exactly what to say to take our minds off the killer.” Kael remained silent. Thinking. Which was better than accusing. Much better. "He didn't hesitate." I pushed forward. "Not once." The room fell quiet again. Neither of us spoke. Because the truth was that we were both thinking about it now. And for one dangerous second, I thought I might actually be getting through to him. Then he spoke. One sentence.