Books About Assassins Fantasy Novels & Stories

Before they could pull their triggers, Asher vaulted off his saddle mid-stride. His body shifted instantly—his clothes tearing as a massive, silver-furred wolf burst into the moonlight. Asher slammed into two of the assassins at once, his heavy jaws snapping clean through iron armor and bone in a spray of blood. I launched myself off my horse, sliding low under the third assassin's swinging blade. I kicked out his back knee, driving my shortsword up into the gap of his leather tunic. He collapsed into the dirt with a ragged groan.

They poured from the shadows like a tide of death. “Too many!” Aaron shouted over the clash of metal. Edward spun, slashing through another opponent. “We hold the gate! If they take the courtyard, we’re done!” I pressed a hand to the floor, channeling the Heart’s power downward. The ground quaked, ancient stones cracking beneath my palm. Golden fissures spread like veins across the hall, erupting upward in a burst of blinding light. The assassins nearest to me staggered, their forms distorting, smoke bleeding from their armor as they screamed in silent agony before vanishing entirely.

The scent of fresh blood immediately stained the clean, ancient air of the sanctuary. ​But these weren't ordinary pack warriors; these were professional killers who specialized in taking down high-ranking werewolves. Three of the assassins threw small, iron canisters onto the floor, releasing a thick, choking cloud of crushed moon-fern and silver dust that began to fill the chamber, trying to blind Lysander’s heightened senses.

The worse part was that he hadn't even stopped at just telling Dante to stop messing with his aunt, he even menaced to murder him. "We need to get you out of this city." Nate couldn't help but agree—that was not the avenue he wanted to continue upon this early in a new surrounding. "We need to get out now." "He could kill you, Nate." "I fucking know that Auntie, thanks." He snapped, annoyed that he hadn't been told all these things before even arriving to this city. He had never heard of anyone named Dante Hercules, his name sounded ridiculous anyway. Besides, he never even thought he would come across a mafia member, or an assassin, or a yakuza—honestly, all these terms were way too much fo

Gabriel said, “I didn’t much want to be alive. Ten years of waiting, not knowing if the pull would ever lead anywhere. So I found the most dangerous work I could.” She waited. “I was an assassin, Honor. A professional killer. I took contracts — targets — and I eliminated them. That was my life for the better part of a decade.” She stopped walking. He stopped too, hands in his pockets, and let her look at him. Let her take the time she needed to put it together, to decide what she thought of it. He’d learned enough about her to know that rushing her to a reaction she hadn’t fully formed would only make it worse.

Because the light was too weak, she couldn't see the fresh blood smeared all over the girl's body, only was surprised and shouted: “Shelly... ah!" Nurse Rose stared in disbelief at her stomach, which had just been pierced by a screwdriver and fell to the floor. The children around her were not surprised to see her suddenly fall down, but found a familiar figure entering. Shelly stomped her muddy feet on the nanny rose, smiling at them. The angelic smile at this moment was bloodthirsty like a devil, and his eyes were red like hell fire. "Asian! Asian! Asian!!!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

We locked the dungeon’s door and walked back toward the bedroom, making sure to walk in the shadows as we did, careful not to be seen. We entered the bedroom and I couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when we did, wrapping my arms around Iris and pulling her in for a hug. The two of us were yet to grieve over who was once the best assassin of her time. She was known for her strength, power, and purity. The idea of her betraying the way she did would have never occurred to my mind had we not lived through it, and seeing that she tried hitting two birds with one stone, and that one of those birds was Iris and I didn’t come as pleasing to me.

One volume called to her like a whisper against bone: *The Greater Veil: Finer Threads of Dominion* She pulled it free. The book was heavier than the black tome from her father’s library, its cover bound in something that looked like polished shadow-leather, warm to the touch. She opened it carefully. The first pages spoke of layered commands, of weaving intent so precisely that the dead obeyed without resistance, of turning even the strongest-willed undead into extensions of the caster’s will. Raven’s breath caught. She looked up at Victoria. Victoria read the title over her shoulder, then met Raven’s gaze. She squeezed Raven’s hand once—firm, reassuring—and nodded.

A me‌rcenary wi⁠th the traitor’s‍ crest hidd⁠en b​ene‌ath h‌is sleeve. ‍ Kaelin swore, scrambl‌ing to his feet, but‍ t‍he a‍ssassi‍n⁠ was faster. He⁠ spr‌inte⁠​d st‌raight for L⁠yra‌, d​agger‌ dr‍awn. ⁠ Lyra lifted⁠ her manacl‍e‌d w​rist‍s insti​nc‍tiv‌ely, Meta‍l col⁠lided wi⁠th‌ m⁠etal.⁠

Isolde brushed away the crumbs from his mouth with such care. The two of them looked so close, like they were in their own little world where no one else could step in. I tried to ignore the twist in my stomach and was about to walk away when a bunch of assassins in black jumped out of nowhere. I stepped back, asking them, "Who are you guys? What do you want?" The assassins looked at each other and then ran straight for me. Their hands gripped weapons with dark, poisoned blades—the same deadly poison that had hurt my dad!