Assassin's Cowl Novels & Stories

He agreed without asking for anything in return. "Clear," Denver's voice from the other line. What he meant by "clear" was that he had hacked the Grand Hotel's system and I could walk past the CCTVs that were no longer working. "Thanks. I owe you this one," I spoke softly to him. We can talk through my earing. My left earring is a high-tech microphone so I don't even need to hold a cellphone to talk to him. This is a very safe way to contact the other assassins especially when the mission is not a sole mission but a group.

Would be use as an evidence. Back then as an assassin, I always made sure I destroy every proof that I have. Every single one of them, I don't ever leave any trail or something that could stand as a weapon against me. I am always careful. There was this particular book that caught my eye, is actually the title that piqued my interest... The book title is, *The kidnapping of five kids.* This is so gross, killing people wasn't enough, he actually... Kidnapped kids! My father is a real psycho.

“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.”

One by one, the wolves lowered their heads. “Long live the Eclipse King!” they howled in unison, their voices a thunderous roar that rattled the walls. Scene 2: The Assassin in the Shadows But even as the hall swore loyalty, a faint click echoed from the rafters above. Caelum froze. He spun just as a dagger of pure moonlight hurtled toward him. A shadow tendril shot out from his palm, catching the blade midair and shattering it into glittering dust. A lithe figure in a white cloak dropped from the ceiling, moving fast as lightning—a Light faction assassin.

Enzo began tickling Pamela, her mark shining brightly as her one sided shirt fell lower on her arm. The Assassin didn’t leave the coven. He monitored everyone and everything that moved among the property. He stayed in the shadows, barely coming out into the sunlight. I had heard that the Death Flock would not get their skin accustomed to the sunlight or light sources, so that their bodies were more attuned to the darkness and shadows. It was all a rumor from my days as a young fangling, but now watching him avoid the light on his skin made me think otherwise. The Assassin kept his mask drawn tight from under his eyes down to his neck. His sword still lay on his side, which had a constant han

it feels like this peace is too fragile, too perfect. I can’t shake the feeling that something is coming. Something bad. THIRD PERSON’S POV Back in the city, in an abandoned garage near the outskirts of town, Camille straps weapons into a black van. Ammunition clips snap into place. Beside her, a man, an assassin, in all black studies a map pinned to the van’s dashboard. Red circles. Coordinates. Timelines. “The cabin is isolated,” the assassin says without looking up. “Minimal visibility. Three exits. One unguarded. We strike soon.”

The Corvettes searched all night, but the assassin was nowhere to be found. They had seemingly evaporated into thin air. The next day, Spencer came to 48 Stronghold. He summoned Cole into a secret room and asked with a solemn expression, "Cole, the assassin last night was able to get through the various barriers we’ve set up in Mount Pearl. He’s clearly a well-trained martial artist. I’ve been thinking about it. The assassin appeared immediately after Angeline did. Could they be working together from the inside out?”

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.

“Return to the pack. Don’t breathe a word of this to anyone and tell my beta to handle the media.” They bowed and quickly filed out, leaving the room eerily quiet. Outside, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional blare of a horn filtered in through the glass doors. I turned back to Lila. “Speak.” “I know a group of assassins,” she said. “They worked for my pack before everything fell apart. They’re efficient, discreet, and fast. Ethan won’t even see it coming.” My wolf stirred approvingly in the back of my mind. “At last,” Hugo murmured. “She’s thinking the right way.”

"An assassin. Professional, highly skilled. He's been picking off my men for the past two weeks. Three dead so far, two more injured. All targeted hits, clean executions." Arabelle picked up one of the photos—a crime scene, body covered with a sheet. "Who is he?" "Goes by 'The Wolf.' Real name unknown. Works exclusively for hire, no loyalty to any family. Someone's paying him to weaken my organization." Dante rubbed his face. "We finally tracked his hideout—an abandoned factory in the industrial district. But here's the problem: every man I've sent to scout the location has either been killed or barely escaped. He's too good. Too careful."