Anwe The Killer Novels & Stories

In my twisted head, I believed that going away from my family and my life as I knew it was a small price to pay. Finally, I was getting the man of my dreams, a good life and I knew that both Billy and I were not perfect. I even thought of us as Bonnie and Clyde. We were not bank robbers, we were killers but I was hoping we won’t kill again. The consequences were not as thrilling as our relationship was. I began to pack my things soon after Billy left because he said I had to leave as soon as possible. For the first time in days, I felt good. I don’t know why, but I think it might have to do with Billy declaring his love for me or the fact that I wasn’t the only killer in the relationship. I

All right, let’s start over. My name is Sarah Killian, and I am a professional serial killer. No, goddammit, I am not a mother-fucking assassin, goddammit. Sorry. Again. That was my Tourette’s. I just have issues with assassins. They’re jackasses. Every. Single. Last. One. Jackasses. Let’s just say that it’s no coincidence the word starts with two asses, because one ass is not enough for those douche bags.

He understood me. He said: “The three the public does not have. Two of them were in 2021. One was in 2022. The press has never connected those three to the seventeen. They are real, and they were mine, and they are the difference between the number you knew in your interior of me and the number that is actually true.” I said: “And Derek.” He said: “Derek would be the twenty-first.” I held that too. Twenty-one. I was, sitting in the armchair of a man’s front room in Brooklyn Heights, the wife of the twenty-first man this man had killed. The wife of the most recent count.

“Taking those who are weaker, younger, making them fight for entertainment. And if you refuse, you die.” I share a look with Nero and Orion. This isn’t just some small-time operation. This is organized. A full-blown fucking enterprise. And it’s spreading like a goddamn virus through our packs. “I’m gonna need more than that, Aeron,” Nero says, his voice tight with barely restrained rage. “We can’t take this down without knowing who’s behind it. I’m going to have to contact Arkyn and Creed at this fucking rate.” Aeron hesitates, his gaze flicking to the floor. “There’s one name I remember … someone they mentioned a lot. He’s not a wolf, but he’s the one pulling the strings.”

His expression returned to its usual coldness, though the hand gripping mine still trembled slightly. “Report, Anessa.” Anessa flinched. She also seemed shocked by Leo’s anger and loss of control. She glanced at me, swallowed nervously, then spoke carefully. “We only just confirmed the information. There’s an escaped convict hiding somewhere around this area. According to the reports, he’s an extremely dangerous serial killer.” Anessa’s words caused my entire body to go numb, and the atmosphere around us instantly turned heavy. A serial killer? An escaped convict? How could something like this happen?

The years he'd built himself into a weapon. He told her about his first job. A man in a warehouse. The organization said he's a trader who had sold them bad information—people had died because of him. Vincent was fourteen. He didn't check if it was true. He wasn't supposed to. The man looked at him and said, "You're just a kid. Go home." That was worse than a fight. He pulled the trigger anyway. Then he went to a motel and sat on the floor of the shower until the water ran cold. He didn't cry. He just sat there trembling, watching the water go from pink to clear. He told himself the man would have killed someone else. She felt something tighten in her chest. Not fear. Not disgust. Something

But because I didn't know what was true yet and until I did, I couldn't create more fear. I stepped closer to her. "Mrs. Keller, I promise you that we're going to do everything we can to find your son." Her eyes searched mine. "Everything?" "Everything." I meant that, because Adrian Keller wasn't just a missing doctor. He was now another unanswered question connected to a hospital filled with unanswered questions. Sandra's phone suddenly rang. She looked down at the screen, then at me. "It's security." I immediately straightened. "Put it on speaker." Sandra answered the call.

Before she could speak more, Gamma Jemenei handed me the sword Zarion gave me as our wedding gift. And I cut Hestia's head with one clean swipe. The blood trickled down my face to my body, but I did not have an ounce of mercy at her. Not anymore. “Hestia! No...No! Hestia!” Aneliesse's cry echoed in the forest but I nodded at Jemenei. In a blink of my eye, he cocked his gun and a silver bullet flew free from it as he shot Aneliesse on the head.

Jones completed. “Exactly, so I put A and B together, I realized—” he gulped another quantity of the beer, “she was the killer,” they both completed. “Wow, that's a lot to take in,” Jones took a deep breath before sipping from his half-empty beer. “Here is the plan, I will put a trail on her, and see where it leads. If she is our killer, then she will be coming for Katherine next.” “Katherine? How did you know I was seeing Katherine?” Andre's eyes opened.

Ansel’s mouth kept muttering out slurs, denying that horrible facts. “I’m not a killer!” Ansel shouted while his hands were grabbing everything on the bedside table. He threw them away in any directions. The sound of broken glass was so noisy. An alarm clock had just fallen victim of Ansel’s tantrum. Ansel was sobbing. His head hurt and got worse when the echo of the term of ‘Killer’ bounced back like a boomerang returning to its master.