Books Like In Cold Blood Novels & Stories

The man Matteo secretly admired. Everything was tangled. Everyone was a liar. I stared at Violet's face for a long time before flipping the photo over. Scribbled on the back in my handwriting: Kill her slowly. ------------------------------------------------------- The next morning, I requested to go to the library wing alone. I knew Father wouldn't say no. He thought books kept me calm. That I spent my time reading old family journals and poetry. Let him believe it. I moved through the dusty shelves until I found the second volume of The Rise of the Mercantis, a political biography that no one ever touched. I opened it, flipped past the front pages, and found what I was looking for.

By the time Momma passed I was married with a little one on the way, so my chance for college had passed, too. But I never stopped reading. Got me a nice little library out back, filled with all sorts of books crammed on bookshelves made by my own two hands. Books like Tom Sawyer, Edgar Allen Poe stories, Huck Finn and The King in Yellow, (that last one I don’t read much cause it always gives me strange dreams), some old mysteries, a clutch of Lovecraft’s books (they hurt my head, too, so I don’t read them much neither), my Hardy Boys books from growing up, and a whole bunch of newer ones by Stephen King and Dean Koontz. Got some heavy thinking books, too. The family King James, The Book of

He handed the books he had chosen to the young worker and stuffed his hands in the pocket of his hoodie. "'The SAS Survival Handbook?' and '2020 Standard Catalog of Firearms'?..." The worker raised her brows at the young man in front of her, the corner of her lips twitching unconsciously, as she used this opportunity to look at his handsome face. "Your taste is still as random as always." This guy would either wander around the bookstore just looking around, or buy the most random craziest books ever. She remembers the first time she saw him buying books here, the titles of those being "Demons: The Devil, Possession & Exorcism" and "Poisonous Plants". The poor girl wasn't sure if this guy wa

Nodding toward the book he said, "Is this what you encountered?" I pulled the book closer. When Laeddin leaned in to see as well, I held my breath, fighting to ignore his beckoning blood. The book had pictures of skulls with smoke coming off them, their eyes glowed red. Human bodies bent at strange angles. The pictures definitely resembled what I'd seen happen with the man in the forest and with Abby. Several different kinds of names were given, but demura wasn't one of them. There also wasn't any information on how they could be killed. "I think so."

One day, Dad called me, his voice low and solemn as he said, "Daphne, Lucille's father and brother were beaten to death overseas by their former subordinates." They had tried to force Lucille's father and brother to hand over money, but they simply didn't have enough to give. In the end, the mob went wild and beat them to death. Hearing this, I thought it was truly brutal. But thinking about it, I felt like it all made sense. They had killed Chase, and now, they were killed by their own men. Perhaps this was karma.

We had to stay alert. Before we reached the entrance to the cells, I froze. The scent of blood and damp stone filled my nostrils. Fuck, this was bad. And beneath that, I could still catch traces of her—lingering from when she had come down here before. Every step was heavy, my mind cycling through every worst-case scenario. The scent of blood thickened around me before I even stepped into the cell block. Thick, metallic, laced with the sharp tang of copper. My stomach clenched. A shifter had bled here—and a lot.

My wolf replied. I shook off the "what-ifs" that held me back and turned back to the towering oak shelves. My fingers traced the spines of leather-bound books, all of them layered in dust that made my nose itch. "Focus," I muttered to myself. "One monster at a time." I immediately admonished myself. I continued to look until I found the books my dad had recommended. I pulled the four heavy volumes from the shelves. The History of Shadow Entities, The Blood Rites of the Unseen, The Search for Shadows and one volume of Pack Lore and Ancient Threats. I carried them to a secluded corner of the library. The dust felt suffocating, but I wouldn't let anything stop me.

"They will not teach you mercy. I won’t either. But I will teach you love—because love is the thing they fear most. The pen shook only once. Then steadied. She wrote about silence, the language of killers. About the way empires rot from within long before they fall from without. She wrote about the weight of a name. Of survival. Of trust sold at gunpoint. Of brothers lost in smoke and sisters buried beneath blood. This wasn't a lullaby. This was war scripture. The second entry in The Book of Blood. And she meant every word. ~~~~~~~~~~ GHOST MOUTH — DAWN Lorenzo stood barefoot in the tide, shirt open, smoke curling from the end of a thin black cigarillo. Behind him, Roji and Inez oversaw the

It tasted of salt and survival, a desperate sanctuary found in the middle of a war zone. Elara reached up, her fingers tangling in the thick, dark hair at the nape of his neck. She pulled him closer, her body molding against the hard, shifting planes of his chest. Through the link, their heartbeats merged into a single, thundering rhythm—a perfect synchronization of blood and tech. She could feel his strength, the raw power of the pack leader, and he could feel her brilliance, the cold clarity of the hunter’s mind now set ablaze by something far more dangerous than fire.

Werewolves. That was the Ashford legacy. She hadn’t understood it until she was old enough to read through the family’s old journals: heavy leather-bound books with cramped writing. The stories were always the same, The Ashfords hunting wolves. The Ashfords wiping out entire packs. The Ashfords fighting alphas under blood moons. Some of them even traded their blood for silver steel. That was her family’s pride. And her prison.