Books About Assassins Fantasy Mga Nobela at Kwento

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on advertising to anyone that my friends’ boyfriends are killers.” “We’re Assassins,” I mutter pointedly. “I can’t tell you much, but what I can say is that we work for a part of the government that is in charge of taking out any threats to our country and its citizens. We mostly accept contracts on otherwise untouchable men.” Sage’s face becomes contemplative as she absorbs the information. To my surprise, she doesn’t run away screaming or insults me. “I...I should go then.” Gripping her forearms, I pull her close. “You know that if you need me, all you have to do is call,” I whisper gently.

As my boots hit the fire escape, I pulled the trigger on a small remote in my hand. The entire room exploded behind me...fire, smoke, and shattered glass raining down. A hellish goodbye. I didn’t flinch. It was my signature—burn everything, leave no evidence. I fixed my hair, wiped a speck of ash from my cheek, and walked away like it was nothing. My name is Lea. I’m a platinum-ranked assassin under the High Table. That rank? It means I’m one of the best. It means the world fears me. Or, in simpler terms:

But I didn't, not when all I was focused on as she started to circle the edge of my desk, was bending her ass over my desk and screwing my self into her body and soul, leaving her wrecked only to fix her back together. Kayla walked between me and the desk, the smell of orange blossom and vanilla filling my nose as she lifted her ass onto my desk, legs dangling just in front of my knees. "If this is what it'll take to stop you from breathing down my neck, then sure." she said softly. Locking her eyes with mine, she slipped her sandals off her feet, her tits spilled over her dress in the process, giving me more than an eye-full of her pale, milky tits.

Assess. The hands on me. They were firm, but… there was a difference. I’d spent years in a world of men; their grips, their shifts in weight, the way they manhandled you. All the people I’d put down had been men. These hands, even through gloves, lacked that… heft. The pressure was distributed differently. Softer bones. Women. An assassin? Doubtful. Their movements were clumsy and were fueled by nervous energy, not cold precision. No, this wasn’t professional. This was personal. They weren’t here to kill me; they wanted to scare me.

The assassins stepped backward butCassian attacked. His claws tore through the first man’s chest and the assassin dropped before he could scream. The second man tried to run but Cassian caught him by the throat. “You came into my home.” He slammed the man into the floor, his bones cracked. The assassin stopped moving and the last man rushed toward Nyra again. Before Cassian could reach him, arrows flew through the hallway and one struck the assassin’s leg. Another pierced his shoulder and the man collapsed. More warriors rushed inside and their armor carried the mark of Shadowfang.

Beautiful against the violence. My magic erupts. No thought. No control. Just raw lunar power flooding outward in a blinding wave of silver light. The first two assassins don't even scream. They simply disintegrate. Flesh to ash in the space between heartbeats. Their weapons clatter to the floor, empty handles with no hands to hold them. The third assassin hesitates. Fatal mistake. I'm on him before he can retreat, my hand closing around his throat. Power pulses through my palm. Through his skin. Into his blood.

I shouted and pushed him back as I got to my feet, “You ruined them and as further torture you made Nok their caretaker. They’re down at the barrier struggling to survive and fight because you decided they were better used as tools to shame Nok rather than-” “Ashai,” he was still smiling like I was the one overreacting, “There have been many cases where I’ve been told I needed to be more cruel with my punishments and this was one of those times. Assassins, that’s what they were. A group of ten assassins that were all barely two centuries old. The youngest of them was just a few years older than Garmesh is now. I am fine with people uniting against me. I have every right to be labeled a monst

Henry said casually. "This is our third encounter, right?" Sven asked. "Thank you for saving my life twice before. I feel so ashamed," Sven responded. "It's fate. Here, take this." Henry pulled out a book and tossed it over. He had plenty of resources because he was the Master of Golden Liberty and had previously been given opportunities. "What's this?" Sven was perplexed, but he was stunned when he saw the title on the cover. "The treasure of the assassin world—the Art of Assassination! Wait! There's also the Ghosty Steps?

“I'm not sure what exactly you're thinking but I can tell you about him and yourself too. You are Raven Ampleton, Alpha princess of the BloodFang tribe, the most respected and dreaded assassin…” The fork fell off my hands. Did he just say assassin? Like, I killed people? How many?! I stared at him, my mind spinning. Assassin? BloodFang tribe? None of it made sense. How could I be part of a tribe of wolves when I was clearly a dragon? And the word assassin… it sent chills down my spine. King Azaiah frowned at my reaction and leaned closer, his golden eyes soft with concern. “I know it’s a lot to take in, Raven, but this is the truth. The BloodFang tribe was known for producing some of the mos

He tries to brush it off, thinking he's just being paranoid, but the feeling persists. He slows down his movements and looks around the room, trying to spot any signs of intrusion. But there's nothing out of the ordinary. Just as he's about to resume his activities, his phone beeps with a message. He fishes it out of his pocket while still inside the woman and sees a message from one of his associates. His heart sinks as he reads the message. "Terminator is coming for you." He's heard of the infamous assassin before but had never thought he would be a target. He tries to push the woman off him and get dressed, but before he can even get up, the door to the room bursts open, and a figure dres