Assassin Books Novels & Stories

Six assassins in black emerged from the shadows, their flashlights cutting through the gloom like the eyes of hungry hyenas. With the lights focusing on her, there was no escape. The only path to survival was through them. Amber's eyes burned with determination as she charged forward. Her dagger slashed through the neck of the nearest assassin, a swift and brutal strike. She moved with desperate precision, aiming for vital points. Her unexpected ferocity startled the man, who had clearly underestimated her. His flashlight clattered to the ground, and blood gushed from his neck. Amber seized the opening, surging ahead without hesitation. After all, this might very well be her only chance. It

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.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her gaze turning to pure adoration as she looked at Ashton. He was like a god. "Kill him! Kill him!" Angry shouts edged with terror rose from the darkness. More and more assassins lunged at Ashton, throwing everything they had into trying to take him down. However, they were only rushing to their deaths. No one could remain standing under that long blade in his hand. Even an SS-ranked expert took only one strike to take out. There was blood everywhere. As time passed, the severed heads on the floor grew in number, while fewer assassins dared to charge Ashton. At long last, none remained who would raise a hand against him.

His strike was swift, precise, a deadly arc toward the assassin’s chest. The serpent spun, meeting steel with steel. The clash rang through the room, bright and violent. They moved in a deadly dance, shadows leaping across the walls. “Don’t kill him!” I shouted. “I need…” But it was too late. The assassin lunged, not at Cassian, but at me. His blade fell short, burying itself in the desk instead of my throat. Cassian’s sword pierced his side in the same instant. Blood sprayed across the ledger, black and glistening in the candlelight.

But if this man-boy, I hated calling him that, but I have yet to have him divulge a name, thinks he will live, he's sorely mistaken. Rule number one of being an assassin is to show no mercy. We learned, as kids, that if you show mercy, you get stabbed in the back. The weak get killed, and in our world, there is no time for weakness. That sounds totally laughable since we're both here pretending to basically be pussies. I hated this fucking shit. If it were up to me, I would've ended this all on the first night we were here. But oh no, Commander Rourke wanted us to play the long game.

But she got rejected and kicked out of Biotech, so she opted to commit suicide. “Don't you feel sorry for her death?” I knew I was a hypocrite in the moment, but I just wanted to know if he ever felt something for his victims. “She chose to end her life, and she did. I had nothing to do with that. Let's just say she was unlucky,” he spoke calmly as he twirled his glass. Assassins were trained never to have feelings or get attached to their targets, but this man here was way worse than an assassin.

I wished, with a sudden, sharp ache in my chest, that someone would actually look at me like that for real. I dropped my iPad and leaned into the chair, closing my eyes. The assassination attempt on my father earlier that evening had drained the last of my adrenaline I was tired. I was stressed. And more than anything, I was desperate to feel something other than terror. I thought back to the night before. I had been on my way to find Kenneth, fueled by my friends' advice to "attack," to take control, to make him beg. My seduction plan had been interrupted by the alert of my dad’s murder attempt.

Baby's Point of View As the assassin's face made contact with the ground, the blood spread widely and pretty quickly touched my shoes. I couldn't keep my eyes away from the assassins. They had the exact same faces as Eric and one was executed in such a cold manner, leaving me with such an unsettling taste in my mouth.

I retorted. “There are many ways to kill. Brute force doesn’t equate to all of them, not even many. Death was my job, and I found it worked best when you had the element of surprise. Assassins prefer a silent, clean kill. Blood and gore is extra.” He tried a smile, but his eyes were far away and hollow.