Assassins Dishonored Novels & Stories

The assassin who attacked Keisha who wore white clothes to stain himself with the blood of the people he killed was standing in front of Shadow now. "So you're working for Sebastian?" he asked with a scoff and the assassin's eyebrows rose. He let go of Shadow's chin and scratched his head. "I'm here to kill him," Daimon uttered with a grunt and Shadow's eyes widened. The man bent down and sighed as he stared at his face again. "I have nothing to do with him…" Shadow grabbed his chains. "Let me out of this prison and you would never hear a word from me," he offered and the assassin chuckled with his boldness. From the looks of Shadow, he has been deprived of food and water, and completely bea

In the private room with her, I could see her whole body trembling when I touched her like she hadn’t been touched in years. Just as she was about to press the drink to her lips, my handler, Silas, spoke to me through my AirPods to pause the mission I immediately took the glass from her and poured the contents over my chest, and she thought it was part of the act, not knowing she almost drank herself to her own death. Just in case Silas needed me to complete the job subsequently, I left a card with my number on it and with how harsh her breathing was and the desire in her eyes, I doubted it would go unused

I slowly wrap my hand around the hilt of the knife strapped to my back. "She is reaching for her knife!" One of the assassins behind me yells. I recognize his voice. His name is Frank, and he is the absolute worst assassin that Faris put on his payroll. "Oh, shut up, Frank," I yell as I turn and throw the knife in his direction. It sticks out of his chest, and he stumbles back against the wall. "This is why no one likes you," I mumble. "She just killed Frank," one of the other men says.

Maria greeted, her smile as sharp as a dagger. The assassin smiled back, hiding the poisoned dagger strapped to his leg. The dinner was lavish. Spiced meats, golden pastries, exotic wines. The assassin feigned interest in conversation while waiting for the right moment. But before he could make a move… he began to choke. His vision blurred. His throat burned. His body convulsed. The last thing he saw was Maria raising her wine glass, smirking as she watched him collapse. His corpse was quietly removed before dessert was even served.

Jacob smiled as he led Midnight Dancer away. The next few hours were filled with gift-giving and conversation. Grace’s favourite gift was from Erin, an Assassin’s Ring. An Assassin’s ring is a ring that had a concealed blade that would pop out when a button was ⎌pressed on the band. This Assassin’s ring was exquisitely made out of Gold and decorated with a pretty vine pattern. There was no way anyone would be able to tell what it was by looking at it.

Damien raised his brows but Henry just stood and didn't say anything. "Is it about Jonathan?" Damien asked. "I'm sorry, I didn't expect him to look at the Vice President's case behind my back." Henry reported. "So? Did he find out anything?" Damien wasn't angry and asked instead. "According to him, The Knife wound on the Assassins that attacked Madame and that of the Vice President are from the same person. So he thinks that Madame is the killer!"

Alessia’s hands trembled and her body trembled. Priam lifted a hand. “Guard.” A Terra soldier stepped forward, pressing a stone-forged blade to the assassin’s throat. The Emperor’s voice hardened, “Tell me who hired you.” The assassin exhaled slowly then smiled. Alessia’s breath caught. It wasn’t a smile of amusement. It was a smile of certainty. “I wasn’t hired.” Priam’s eyes narrowed,“What?” “I wasn’t hired,” the assassin repeated calmly. “I volunteered.” Eryx stiffened. “Volunteered? For what—treason?! ”

Every strike, every dodge, every snap of fangs was a declaration: Blackwood would not fall, not today, not to assassins, not to traitors. Finally, with a coordinated lunge, Kade and Lena struck simultaneously, claws and fangs tearing into the master assassin. The cloak fell back, revealing a scarred face, eyes blazing with hatred and disbelief. The assassin’s body crumpled to the stone floor, defeated but alive—barely.

I focused, pushing my perception outward, and felt it: Three distinct presences, approaching our location with purpose and coordination. They carried the signature of resurrection, that supernatural quality that marked them as something beyond normal human, but twisted through with something cold and mechanical. "They're not here for justice," I said, understanding dawning. "They're here as weapons. Assassins." "The Consilience is cleaning house," Damian concluded. "Evan and Richard have become liabilities through our exposure. These corrupted hunters are being sent to eliminate everyone involved:

The lack of food and water was taking its toll, her limbs growing heavy and sluggish. But she refused to give up. With a roar of fury, Valia lunged, her body a blur of motion. She twisted mid-air, vanishing from his line of sight, and drove her blade deep into his gut. He doubled over, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Valia wrenched the blade, feeling the warm gush of blood on her hands. The assassin collapsed to the ground, his life bleeding out into the damp earth. Valia stood over him, her chest heaving, her blade dripping with his blood.