Assassin Books Fantasy Novels & Stories

While my father flops like a fish on the floor, I take his weapon, kick him in the head and reach for Taryn. Ava slumps against her wall, her eyes wide with shock. However, she looks unhurt, so I leave her and check on Taryn, Blood flows around both women like a pool. As an Assassin, I’ve seen a lot of death and have even caused some of them, but I have never felt fear as I do at this moment. Squatting down, I pull Tamsyn off Taryn.

“How’s the pain?” “I’ll live.” I grunted as I picked up the books she had dropped to distract myself from the pain of her checking over my injuries. “I found those on Stephanie’s bookshelf.” She chuckled. “Thought you could use something to keep you busy. I picked that one because the author has my name.” I looked more closely at the books she had brought, chuckling when I saw that one was titled ‘The Rogue Queen’ by Rory McCauley-Hayman. I waved the second book titled ‘Breaking The Bond’, in the air.

I have so many unanswered questions about this mysterious assassin. I spent the next week preparing for the formal event while also gathering what I could about assassins that were known. None of the information told me anything. I got a few well-known female assassin names. The number one was Phantom Reaper, second was Blade of Bracken (named after this city, Bracken’s Rock), and third was simply Death. Not very original, that one. By evening, it’s time for me to attend this despicable gala to network and attempt to secure funding for my next research project. I dress sharply in a black tuxedo, my white dress shirt is crisp, and I wear a neatly knotted black tie. My hair is usually always a

I make my way to a rental car I have parked two blocks away, get in and drive back to Hotel LeVeque, where I plan to soak in a nice hot tub and get a good night’s rest. This is what my life consists of. I travel the globe killing people for a living. I don’t take any sexual gratification from what I do, I don’t even do it for the money really – although it does pay incredibly well. No, this work; this life, runs in my blood. It’s deep rooted in who I am. By the age of twenty-nine I have become one of the most prolific assassins in the world. To those in this shadow world or those who seek me out I am only known by my codename. Blackheart.

As my boots hit the fire escape, I pulled the trigger on a small remote in my hand. The entire room exploded behind me...fire, smoke, and shattered glass raining down. A hellish goodbye. I didn’t flinch. It was my signature—burn everything, leave no evidence. I fixed my hair, wiped a speck of ash from my cheek, and walked away like it was nothing. My name is Lea. I’m a platinum-ranked assassin under the High Table. That rank? It means I’m one of the best. It means the world fears me. Or, in simpler terms:

As Ishir shifts back to his human form, I help him sit up and Cedric gives him some water. When he relaxes and I see his body begin to heal itself, I look at him. “Did you see the person? Did you see the assassin?” I snarl. If they went after Ishir, they are dead. I'll kill them. He looks at me, sadness in his eyes. “It’s Zephyr, Avani. She’s the assassin.” The end. This story will continue in Book 3: The Assassin coming late May, early June.

“They move in shadows. They never fail. By the time anyone knows they’re there, it’s already done.” His words sent heat straight through me, danger and lust winding together until I was dizzy. When his mouth covered mine, I let the hunger spill, my body arching against him. His hands were rough, pulling silk up my thighs. I gasped as he lifted me, and in moments we were tangled in sheets, his breath hot at my throat. Forbidden. Reckless. Perfect. The Assassins Shadows lengthened with the late sun. Three of them moved, soundless, their steps swallowed by the shadow, only silence.

The dungeons stunk of damp stone, rust, and blood that had seeped too deep into the walls to be washed clean. Torches hissed along the narrow hall, their flames casting restless shadows. Serina descended the steps with Damien at her side, Cassian trailing behind like a silent sentinel. Each step seemed to press the air heavier against her chest. At the far end of the chamber, the assassin knelt bound in chains, his body bruised, his lip split, one eye swollen shut. And yet, when he lifted his head, his gaze was sharp burning with defiance, with hatred.

A young man stepped out, assisted by two servants, dressed in embroidered gold brocade and wearing a jeweled circlet. I'd recognize that face anywhere—even if it turned to ash. It was Matthew, my brother, who was supposed to be dead for over a year. The brother I'd given my life to atone for. He was back. Alive. Radiant. Dressed like a true prince of nobility. I hung there in the air, struck dumb as if by a bolt of lightning. My ghost trembled on the verge of unraveling.

His eyes weren't their usual striking gold anymore; they were a terrifying, glowing crimson, burning with the promise of absolute death. In a display of terrifying, supernatural speed, Cassian intercepted the assassin before the man's boots could fully settle on the floor. He didn't just hit the man; he pulverized him. Cassian caught the assassin by the throat mid-air, the force of his grip snapping bone instantly, and slammed him down into the marble floorboards. The wood cracked under the impact. The threat was neutralized in a matter of seconds, the second assassin dropping like a stone, completely lifeless before he even knew what had hit him.