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my dad said, dropping a green dusty book which he pulled from a shelf opposite the room. “Could it be the massacre?” Caine asked, taking the book and blowing off the dust. He opened it and got choked by the dust inside. “No, not the massacre, but what caused the massacre. It’s an old book. Contains years and events that brought the Seekers pack out of their hiding. You can take your time, go through it. Or my daughter could help,” “No, thank you,” Caine and I chorused. We exchanged glances like we weren’t just the people who kissed each other before a large number of persons—-who are now corpses.

There, spelled out vertically across the left-hand margin of the piece of yellow notepad paper, is my name: Susan Baker Adam Jackson Raven Arronson Amaranda Cosack Henry Polls Kyle Andrews Ian Bond Lavanna Cox Larry Wilkinson Ida Brown Aaron Belue Nathon Swanson The only crimp in this is Johnny—but he was killed over a month after the first twelve were, so it stands to reason that Johnny’s murder was not intended to be included as part of the original message. That’s why Nick stopped killing after those first twelve; he wanted to leave a clear gap so that it would be clear that Johnny was not part of the message

She asked sitting beside Darius as there was already an untouched plate of food beside him. "I would say 5 out of 10." She sighed taking off her jacket showing off the hickeys on her neck. He cleared his throat getting up, "I'm going to read in the living room, I suggest you cover your neck if you're going to talk to him." She sighed. "Hickeys?" He nodded before going to the living room taking up the book he had almost finished. - End Of Chapter 7: Zane & Amoy -

by Damn, you can know how excited I was that at least I would be with this bitch who claims to be innocent. So here we are going through the books in the library to find a chosen topic. She was wearing her sunglasses, she took them off and unbuttoned her shirt, saying the library was hot, and her cleavage came into view. I lost my concentration fuck, it is too disturbing to keep staring at the cleavages, but I have to act as a man in her presence, so we move to the corner of the shelf where history books are stacked and rare to check.

Chaos erupted. Everyone scrambled toward the soldier's hospital room. Miller dragged me by my handcuffs, pushing me to the front of the crowd. Through the glass, I saw Enzo tangled in a mess of tubes. Disgust flashed across my face. Then I gave Miller a faint smile. "If I had known you were so hard to kill, I would have used white phosphorus instead of cyanide." "I planned nine perfect executions, only for you to become the one stain on my record."

“You want to buy your wife a copy of Why It Is Prudent To Kill the Man That You Marry?” The killer’s eyebrows raised a fraction before he could control them. “Why, uh . . . yes. Yes, I do. That is precisely the book that I wish to purchase. For my wife.” “Kathleen” shrugged, and the killer sighed in relief. The woman burst into a long and tedious book report using words like “feminist ideals” and “male oppressive dogs” and by the time they were completely alone and it was time for her to die, the murderer was very, very ready to kill her.

“You and Bernard. Discussing the plan to murder Evalina. I’ve stored it in three different places. One with Monique. One with my lawyer. And one... in a public cloud that’ll be released automatically if anything happens to me.” Shopia’s face hardened. “You’re bluffing.” Hunter stepped closer, now only inches from her. His voice trembled with restrained rage. “Try me. But if anything happens to Evalina... I’ll drag you to hell myself.” Shopia stared at him—and for the first time, her smile disappeared. Then she turned and walked toward the door. But before she reached it, she looked over her shoulder. “Evalina won’t survive if she keeps fighting. This world isn’t made for the weak, Hunter. Yo

Whereas I love the challenge of coming up with a cover story and can’t imagine doing a job without one (even though on some level I admit it would make things easier). “No,” I respond at last after considering her question, “I think we should still have a Herring, if for no other reason than we don’t want this to come back and bite the governor. If we leave the killings completely open-ended, conspiracy theorists might jump on it and say the family was killed by the government for their involvement in the K.K.K.—the fact that the conspiracy theorists would be right, for once, is beside the point. It’s safer if we have a Herring in place.”

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

The anticipation is a sweet, cruel torture. When they return, I can see it in their eyes—they’ve succeeded. A weight lifts from my shoulders, replaced by a cold, grim determination. The four killers are ready, eager even. The thrill of the hunt calls to them, and for a few hundred dollars, they’ll answer that call. It’s almost funny how little it costs to end a life here. But for these four, it’s never been about the money. It’s about the kill, the thrill of watching someone take their last breath.