Amma Sharp Objects Novels & Stories

he said, “I don’t do trades. I do eliminations.” He raised the gun again—this time at me. Luca shoved me behind him so fast I stumbled. Gunshot cracked. But it didn’t come from O’Malley. It came from the shadows behind the SUV. O’Malley jerked—blood blooming on his shoulder—spun. Another shot. This one caught him in the chest. He staggered. Looked down. Surprised. Then he fell—hard—onto the wet planks. Marco screamed behind the tape.

Vincelli made a sickening chuckle and I felt lightheaded thinking about that, “Ana- Maria's dead? She killed her sister?" "Oh the things that girl would do for me." He sighed in awe. “I know what this is, you enjoy it, don't you? Turning people against each other, families, killing lovers, causing pain to others, to children- you have a God-complex agenda. You live for it." "You know, I always admired you, Archer Devereux, you and that Sinister Salvatore. I just love the scenario." “Beep Beep Beep. Guys." Moe's voice suddenly echoed, "We're in the basement right now and we just found Miss Violet Proca and Vitaly Orlov's body dumped down here."

Señorita Amy Leah had been smiling and giggling since he picked her up in the mansion. Well, at least somebody was making her smile amidst all of this tragedy in her life. I was focused on them when a message notification on my phone arrived. It was my boss! "Take photos!" two words that were good enough to turn my world upside down. I took my phone and began focusing on them. It was a good thing that I parked the car near the glass window where their table at. I gasped at every click my phone made. For a perfect couple, there were no wasted frames on my shots. Everything was taken professionally. When the detective fed Señorita Amy Leah and wiped the corner of her mouth with his thumb, when

Oliver merely leaned back. One of the men standing nearby smiled faintly before reaching inside his side jacket. Slowly,e pulled out a small, razor-sharp knife. Its polished blade reflected the warehouse lights as he approached the helpless captive. Amber's heartbeat slammed painfully against her chest. "No..." she whispered unconsciously. The man ignored her. Without hesitation, he drove the blade into the captive's stomach. "Ahhh!" The scream echoed violently throughout the warehouse. Amber flinched so hard that tears instantly sprang into her eyes.

he snarled, gripping her throat. Sienna clawed at him, her nails raking his arm, but he remained unfazed. They fought violently her kicking and him restraining, the cell rocking with their fury. I pulled myself up, my head pounding, blood dripping from my scratched arms. A jagged piece of stone lay nearby, sharp and threatening. My hands trembled as I grabbed it, cutting into my palms. With Damon entangled with Sienna, I staggered forward, raising the shard, aiming for his back. I could bring this to an end him, her, everything.

she echoed softly, letting the word resonate between them, a shield against the storm that lurked outside their small bubble of sanctuary. When they arrived home, the familiar scent of their apartment offered a semblance of comfort. Liam led the way to the living room, where the soft glow of the lamps cast warm shadows across the walls. Amara sank onto the couch, burying her face in her hands. The events of the evening replayed relentlessly in her mind: Darren’s charm, the calculated smirk, the ease with which he had infiltrated a space that should have been safe.

I said "You are my friend." She looked at me with pain in her eyes. Then it was gone. She said "No, I am the reason they found you." Everything stopped. I could not breathe. I could not think. She said "I told them where you were" and her voice was cold. I felt like I had been shot. Then the device, in her hand started flashing. It was so bright. The last thing I heard was "I am sorry Amara but you were never meant to escape."

No one would suspect you and they would usually talk and act recklessly in front of you. “The weapon,” It was a scythe. A retractable scythe that could tear heavy metals like paper and pierce through anything even the soul. Using it, they can open treasures long-buried and kill anyone like nobody's business. It's a precious little thing. And it's in the rightful and very capable hands. Me. •••

Grace called out, her voice steady despite the chaos. Then I saw her—Amber Blackwood, emerging from the smoke with a weapon that looked like it belonged in a war zone. She'd changed since the mining complex, hardened by months of running and planning. But the hatred in her eyes when she looked at Grace was the same. "You should have died three years ago," Amber snarled, opening fire with a burst that forced Grace to dive behind cover. I moved without thinking, throwing myself between Amber's line of fire and where Grace had been standing. The impact of bullets hitting my body armor was like being kicked by a horse, driving the breath from my lungs and sending me staggering backward.

The high-resolution cameras hidden in the molding had captured everything: the forced entry, the grand larceny, and now, the clear evidence of armed intent. Behind the wall of tactical shields and leveled rifles, Sophia Reed emerged from the shadows of the adjoining suite. She didn't look triumphant or vengeful; she looked profoundly bored, as if watching a predictable play reach its inevitable, dreary conclusion. She stood behind the thermal-glass partition, watching as the officers forced Luna to the plush carpet, her face pressed into the fibers she could never hope to afford.