Blackass Novel Summary Novels & Stories

She raised the back of her hand to her mouth and wiped away the faint trace of Kayden’s blood. A small, broken sob escaped her. Her gaze returned to the barricaded door. She waited for Kayden’s footsteps, waited for the doorknob to turn, waited for the old wood to crack beneath his weight. But nothing happened. The corridor remained silent. Still, Alessia couldn’t relax. Elena wanted to break her. Kayden wanted to defile her. And Cassian — the dark, untouchable man who watched her from the shadows — wanted to own her very soul.

My seduction plan had been interrupted by the alert of my dad’s murder attempt. I needed a distraction from…everything. My body still throbbed, it wanted to be touched, it needed him. I needed him. I stood up, my resolution hardening. I wasn't just a billionaire; I was a woman who was tired of waiting for permission to feel alive. I sat up when he came out of the gym in the room He was wearing nothing but a pair of low-slung black athletic shorts. His muscles were rigid, gleaming with a sheen of sweat

Finally, I turned to look at him. I let my gaze trail over his taper fade, the messy blond hair that refused to behave and those stupid innocent blue eyes that made people trust him instantly. He had the face of a saint, smooth lines, sharp cheekbones, a mouth that curled too easily into a smile that could make anyone feel safe. But Olek wasn’t safe. He was the Syndicate’s golden boy; the number one assassin, top of the kill board for ten damn years. I was fifth, which wasn’t bad considering I’d only been in the game for six years.

The city glimmered floor-to-ceiling beyond the glass, a quilt of white squares with little plans inside them. A pair of Black Redback Terra boots ghosted across the entry hall runner. The assassin paused beside the console table, the light painting him as a presence without features—hat brim low, coat matte, a black sling bag kissing his hip. He waited until the music hit the chorus, then moved—through the living area with its tidy stacks of journals and its bowl of perfectly unblemished pears, down the corridor where the spotlights belonged to an interior designer’s thesis. A camera nodded in the ceiling; it blinked and then forgot to remember for thirty-eight seconds.

" I was about to fall to my knees again. I would have. The pride and dignity I'd had walking in here had been gone for hours. I just wanted my father back in my arms. That was when the noise hit the house. A black SUV came through the front gate, straight into the living room. The floor-to-ceiling windows shattered. Glass flew everywhere. Through the dust, the driver's side door was thrown open. A tall figure stepped out, backlit. I could not see her face. I knew her from the way she carried herself. Cassia Wynn. The fear and grief I had been holding in broke loose the moment I saw her.

The attacker’s bodies, put in a different place than their victim’s. A few of the perps had been taken alive, and except for those holding them, and those on body duties, all my men joined me after their assigned job done. The broken body of the Alpha was found in the kitchen. No survivor had been found. “I think John gave the order to wipe everyone. He did that on another job. That’s probably when he sent men to take your sister too,” Vanargand told me. “What happened?” I asked, careful not to let my rage seep into my apparent detached tone.

Grand, echoing, thick with history and danger. Amara walked in first — flanked by Cassian and Dante, all dressed for war under tailored suits. They weren’t here to negotiate. They were here to remind the old world who owned the new one. But something felt… off. Too quiet. Too smooth. And then— The first shot rang out. Cassian shoved Amara to the floor. Glass shattered. Bullets tore through the velvet balconies. “Ambush!” Dante roared, firing into shadows. Amara rolled behind a column, gun already drawn.

But his death belongs to King. Me? I've only got one job tonight. Keep her safe. Keep her breathing. Keep her from being passed around like some whore for sport. And so far—it's working. Silas still thinks I'm on his side. Thinks I walked in here blind, ready to serve up the Reapers on a silver fucking platter. That I'm just another monster like him and Bones—just another bastard who sees women as holes to fuck and leash. And apparently, according to his latest sick revelation, Alyssa's been his property since she was a fucking child.

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

~~~ 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.