Assassin Books Fantasy Novels & Stories

It intentionally missed me, burying itself deep into the pillar an inch from my head. I fired back, but it was too late. She already vanished as if she had never been there in the first place. I lowered my gun and reached for the dagger. This wasn’t the kind of standard steel most assassins in the underground carried. It was personalized, covered in red wine with a silver rose carving on its handle. “See you soon, sweetheart.” I smirked, twirling it once in my hand before slipping it into my coat.

The background sound from the TV filled the empty space and made her feel less fidgety. Ping. A message dropped, Alina was being transferred to Mexico for her pending detective case. “It can't be a coincidence.” she thought. This was her life now. Alina the Assassin. Life in the underground was hell when she first joined seven years ago. Trainings were even more brutal. But the one thing that fueled her was the burning thirst for revenge, to do that she had to survive and the only way for her to survive was to join the crime family.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Note To The Readers: Samantha’s chemistry lab debacle and suspension incident has been written in detail in ‘Chapter 1: The Suspension’ in the book titled, “My Assassin Mate.” You can read it if you are interested to know more for curiosity sake. However, not reading it will not disturb the flow of this story. So keep reading and enjoy ! **

I furrowed my brows at him. “I meant, good that he wasn’t your boyfriend…not that he was a fucking moron that got himself killed.” I tilted my head at him. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked nervous. “Please disregard what I just said.” I scoffed. “Yeah, sure.” “Good.” He let out a breath. “How many people have you taken out?” Most assassins didn’t keep count; after the first few years, they all blended together. But I knew the exact number of people I had taken out for the last decade. “Three hundred and fifty-seven.”

“But we are what was left behind.” One of the others a tall, eyeless man whose skin shimmered like broken glass spoke in a voice that echoed with dozens of tones. “You killed the Quill.” “I did.” “You shattered the pen,” said a girl with birds instead of hair. “I had to.” “And now,” whispered the assassin twins in perfect harmony, “the stories must write themselves.” Ashen stepped closer, page extended. “Give me a name.” “What?” “A real one,” she said. “Not Ashen. That was your placeholder. Give me something meant to last.”

~~~ Opening my eyes to the lingering pain behind my head, I squinted my eyes open and then groaned gently. As the series of events of the past day till now rushed through my head, I closed my eyes shut again and then whimpered. My hands were tied together, and so were my legs. Again, I wondered where things had all gone wrong. Yesterday, I found out that my husband had killed my unborn baby just because he was together with my best friend. And today, I found my husband in the pool of his own blood. That was not all… someone was trying to kill me too because there was no way this was a proper police station.

“Guess you can see that for yourself.” I remained silent, my expression unreadable. I started toward the door, but Casey shifted, blocking my path. “You know,” he said, voice casual, “I’m actually glad he’s gone.” That made me pause. My eyes narrowed slightly, a silent demand for him to continue. Casey’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I knew what you were from the beginning. Assassin. A famous one, at that.” He tilted his head, watching me carefully. “I always wanted to warn Gerald, tell him exactly what kind of woman he was dealing with. But I didn’t, because I was afraid.”

Dresses aren't my thing. I'll pick a pair of jeans or sweats before I put on a dress. Dresses make me feel exposed and uncomfortable. I'm a warrior. I don't find killing myself to look good as a priority for the fact that I don't care about finding a mate. The mate bond is ridiculous, in my opinion. Falling for someone and losing yourself in them just because the Moon Goddess paired you two is utterly pathetic. Being an assassin, I learned that loving someone only leads to hurting them or yourself. Love makes people vulnerable and weak, and I want no part of it.

He dropped his other hand on my boob, now massaging my chest in a way that made me grow wet all over again. He didn't stop gliding his length against my thighs, and I didn't realize when I parted my legs, giving him access to my crotch. “Come on baby. Beg for this cock,” he grunted, squeezing my boobs like it was his lifeline. “Plea–please fuck me,” I choked out, my voice splitting between a whimper and a moan. “That's my dirty slut,” he murmured, releasing his grip on my boobs. That should have pissed me off. Hell, it should have made me punch him in the face. I mean, I was an assassin. Not a whore.

"It's one of the best-selling novels this year. The main characters are assassins and mercenaries, which made the book have a lot of blood and gore, and dark humor. The pacing and plot are great as well as the characters. It has a bit of romance, going from enemies to lovers." "Oh." Now, that caught my attention. "Definitely my type of story." I flipped the book to read its description on the back. "That's actually the last of the Agnis Trilogy." She fetched a couple of books from where I pulled the one on my hand and placed both over it. "First is The City of Flame, next is The Kingdom of Blades, and this, of course, is last." She tapped the books one by one. "Ah, thank you for telling, but