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Elsa said. Sharon touched her ear and continued reading. "WOLF hearing wow!." Elsa said. "How about the betas?." She added. "Hmmm. The guy who dropped the letter was killed last night and he was our only shot to find the rest, now the rest will be afraid to come out of their hidings." Sharon said. "Oh my God who killed him?." Elsa asked. Sharon eyes was now filled in tears. "The hunters, they decapitated him and he's an innocent kid." Sharon said bursting to tears.

Family and friends of the victim’s out to get him for the murders. But on August twentieth, 2001, Druid Hills Headquarters moved their illegal enterprise to North Atlanta 6.8 miles elsewhere. They discovered fresh unwilling organ donors, continuing their murderous violence covering up their atrocious acts and identities. Closing Remarks I hope readers enjoyed my work Revenge of the Executioners. I wanted to lean toward writing impact action, adventure, and drama for once. Your reviews on my book inspire me to continue writing fiction of crime, mystery, thriller, fantasy and paranormal. Visit Amaze and give my book a review if you enjoy it!

-Shirley Chapter 11 At twenty minutes after one in the morning, Ackermann sat comfortably in an armchair in his apartment. He held on his lap a pile of the files of the very first five victims of the Angel of death, the shadow killer. He would go through each of them attentively, not missing a single adjective or an adverb. Before two, he had gone through the files and already gone over it a second time. “Still nothing….” He said as he sent his hands to caress his eyes and face.

I learned a little to his right ear. “I’m not the weak little Clara anymore who you used as a mere puppet once. So get lost before I make you mute for eternity.’’ I whispered in a low voice and straightened my head once again. He gave me a death glare and released my collar. Then paid the bill and furiously stomped his way out of the bar. Hah, I can’t believe I won. I have to tell this to my big sister. ----------------------------------------- The Headquarters of the police detectives was in a total mess. Everyone was on edge because of the ‘might be a serial killer case. The chef was in an especially bad mood because of the constant pressure from higher-ups ups.

"That scar has to be fake! You just want me to be your scapegoat! You're jealous because Mom and Dad always loved me more, so now you're scheming to get me killed." Seeing Emma crying in his arms, Noah grabbed me by the hair and dragged me in front of her, forcing me to confess. "Anna, you were the killer, yet you have the nerve to frame Emma. You evil woman! Apologize to Emma! Maybe then I'll put in a good word with the cops!" Noah's grip was strong, causing my scalp to ache terribly, but it couldn't compare to the pain of being slashed to death in my previous life. I looked up at the two of them viciously, laughing in exasperation.

The Iron Wolf pack's weakness is. Bloodclaw spies may have infiltrated our business meeting. Need to set a counter-trap... Aiden seems stressed today. I’ll make his favorite steak tonight. Maybe that will help. Every page was about me. My career, my safety, my preferences. She kept every part of me in her heart. My tears mixed with the rain, dripping onto the charred pages. In a corner of the pit, I saw a small wooden object. I carefully dug it out. It was a hand-carved wolf head, only the size of my fist, but the craftsmanship was breathtaking.

Silas begins, but suddenly his words are cut short as something pierces through the floor-length window, landing on his chest as shards of glass from the window rain over the floor and even onto the street below, causing people to scream. I don't seem to understand what's happening until I see the blood pumping out of his chest as Silas Moretti falls to the ground, dead. As if snapped out of their daze, everyone in the room screams and begins to scamper around in fear. Reality crashes through me then—Silas Moretti has been assassinated. That's when chaos takes over. Gunfire opens between my men and Silas's. Tbc.

CHAPTER EIGHT The courtyard was dark and quiet. Not dead quiet, but the kind that forewarns of something coming. The kind that settles on your skin like fog and oozes in around your bones. Two black trucks stood in the driveway, their engines rumbling low like beasts ready to be unleashed at a prey. I stood in front of them, the night encircling my shoulders like a shawl, dark and unreadable. My men, ten of them clustered there, guns in hand, armed and equipped, their eyes aglow, some covered by masks, others laid bare. Killers. My killers.

the letter read. “I spent four hours today arguing with a man who smelled like old goat cheese and gunpowder. I found myself wondering if you were still reading about the Medicis, or if you’d moved on to something less bloody. I found a bookstore in a small village today. It was tucked between a bakery and a butcher shop. I saw a first edition of 'The Shining' and thought of you. Stay in the sun, Little Bird.” I laughed again, a sound that I had not genuinely made in a while .

“You can shoot me. But you’ll never defuse it in time. We all die together. Poetic, isn’t it?” ***** With a raw, animal roar, Zhedya charged. This wasn’t a fight. It was a demolition. Two trained killers, all their polished technique stripped away, reduced to just hatred and fists. They crashed into each other, a tangle of violence, stumbling through rotten pallets that splintered around them. Blood…whose, it was impossible to tell…began to paint the concrete floor. The world came back to Ian in pieces. Pain first. Then the sound of grunts and impacts. The beeping of the timer. 00:05:12.