Alice Killings Novels & Stories

“I just listed out the possible suspects for who took those pictures of us within the pack boundaries.” “And who did you list?” “Blondie and her two clones,” I said. “Christie, Blaire, and Margot.” Joe nodded. “And Alec. Malachi doesn’t want to admit he could be a possibility.” “Yeah, we discussed that possibility before.” Joe nodded again and looked at Malachi. “You can’t rule it out because you don’t want it to be true. In this situation, anything is possible.” “You all are trying to give me a headache,” Malachi said, putting his hands on his desk. “What do we do next, then?”

Alicia was always making me confused, she hid many things from me, and those things would only revealed when or after the crime was done. How could I bring back the lives of those innocent people? I was undoubtedly a killer who wasn't thinking; I was just doing what would enter my mind. And I didn't know how to blame because Alicia told me once I could choose who to kill, but she seemed to to be lying. If she could only say the exact words, I didn't kill those boys. It was my mistake too that even I heard her said the word “ninety-nine,” and I became curious, I didn't asked her about it.

The women must have noticed that I was beginning to lose consciousness because they immediately let go of my limp body. "Is she dead?" I faintly heard one of them ask, her voice a mixture of fear and panic. "Who cares... I'm sure Lord Darius and Lady Hilda wouldn't care. They'll even thank us for getting rid of this filth," another said casually. "Thank us!!! How idiotic can you be!? Half-breed or not, she's the daughter of The Great Rafael Bloom. And we've just killed her. Mere vampire maids. We'll be staked alive for this," another declared in panic, making the others start to panic as well, realizing what they had done.

She feared she might fall deeper and deeper until darkness swallowed her. Everything began somewhere. Everything began with someone. She blamed herself for Clinton’s death, but somebody caused everything. Clinton’s mother. That witch caused everything. She again brought this imposter to avenge Clinton’s death. Kayla always would remember the day she overheard June and Lena say Clinton’s mother was a lunatic. As such, Alicia killed Mr. Christopher, her grandfather. She’d relied on people for her freedom. Not any more. Even if she might consider submitting to Anthony, she’d as well fight Alicia and make her stop the imposter herself. She’d spare no effort to have her life back.

“Well, my sister’s abuser was a member of the pack. At the time he was the Head Warrior’s son, and he used his position as a means to manipulate my sister. He was 16 when he started abusing her and almost 22 when I killed him. His father wanted my head. Didn’t believe me or my sister that his son was abusing her. He caught me off guard one day while I was doing patrols and killed me. Poetic justice I suppose, murdering a murderer.” “Were you punished for killing his son?” “No, Alpha Marshall believed my sister and I. Said that I had delivered the appropriate justice and that he would have done the same had my sister come to him and told him what had happened.” “Well, I for one applaud you fo

I say as I push the glass further away from me. "Is that so? Do tell." He kept his replies short as his eyes carefully studied me. "I suspect Alice Moore paid you to have someone cut the brakes on the car that was parked in front of a bar quite recently. That person had an accident and then died because of her." I say as I make an effort not to break eye contact with him, not wanting to show weakness.

Alpha Nicholas We make quick work of getting all our guests comfortably tied to chairs in the old tin shed that's at the back of our pack lands. It's one we use when it's time to quietly end a motherfucker. Often those who need to die have a public death. And then there are those deaths that don't need to be made public or deaths that require special attention like when we want information from them first. That kind of death doesn't happen often but when they do, we have this place ready.

For three years, Hallie Larson has managed to keep her affair so carefully hidden that I can't find a single trace of the other man. Once, I find a pair of men's underwear in the back seat of her car, still warm, as if someone has only just taken them off. Other times, I notice fresh, suspicious marks behind her ear. Every time, I lose my temper. I tear through the house, demanding to know who the man is. Hallie only furrows her brow, looking more exhausted than guilty. "Sebastian, how long are you going to keep imagining things? If you're going to accuse me of cheating, then at least show me the man you claim exists." So, I start following her everywhere, 24 hours a day. I even call

Friday morning wakes me up with a surprise. I struggle to get out of the bed as my arm aims for my phone that's been ringing for like a minute now and has been the main cause of my early rise. I sneak clumsily off of Sebastian's captive and he groans in response to the slightest movement I make. I reach for the phone, adjusting to the intense light. Kim is the name that reads. All of a sudden, sleep is no longer within me and I'm suddenly as alert as an FBI agent.

As always, Alice didn’t disappoint him. …… In a dark, lonely cemetery, Alice stood in front of a headstone engraved with 'Alessia Francesco.' She held a bottle of champagne in one hand and a glass cup in the other. She fell to her knees in front of her mother’s grave. Her mother had been cruelly taken from her; Alice had witnessed her murder. She had been there when the ruthless mafia stabbed her mother in the chest repeatedly. She was only eight at the time. Her mother’s murderer would have killed her as well if she hadn’t run as fast as her tiny legs could carry her. If Sergio hadn’t found her in time, she would have been dead. Sergio wasn’t her biological father; her father had died befor