Novel & Cerita Books With Assassins

I thought I could handle this on my own, thought I could bring Zephyr back without assistance because I’m her mate, but it's not enough. “Did you see the person? Did you see the assassin?” Avani snarls. I look at him, knowing this will hurt him nearly as much as it hurts me. “It’s Zephyr, Avani. She’s the assassin.” He falls back on his butt. “What? Are you sure?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why would she do this? Why would she kill these shifters?” Cedric asks. “They got to her,” Avani says as realization dawns on him and he looks at me. He and I have worked together long enough. We understand each other without words.

Let’s just say that it’s no coincidence the word starts with two asses, because one ass is not enough for those douche bags. So no, I’m not an assassin. I’m a professional serial killer, also known as a PSK. Assassins are lazy. Kill one terrorist with a sniper rifle from a hundred yards away and then disappear into the night without a trace. Boring. PSK’s make Murder for Hire an art form. Any Catholic schoolgirl can shoot a man or put poison in his scotch, but it takes real finesse to make Murder for Hire look like the workings of a deranged sociopath. Granted, it does help that most PSK’s are deranged sociopaths, but that is completely beside the point.

he finished as he rose. The room, surrounded by his fifteen elite, he froze midway through his rise, transfixed by the sight of the assassin before him. Everything that happened next happened at once, and yet he watched it as if it were intended for him to see. In the man’s grip came a burst of flame, and from the space around his hand a blackness spilled from somewhere within the light like a pool of blood from an unattended injury, smoke rising as it came to life, drawn from a place Maekil could only surmise to be an abomination. And when it was over, like the tale of the Shadow Child, in his grip rested two short swords like the falchions of great archers who bore the battlefront in the a

The assassin pulled a jagged bone-knife from his belt and drove it into Harrison’s side. I saw the flash of red on Harrison’s shirt. The scent of woodsmoke and heated copper filled the room. "Harrison!" "Get the scroll out!" Harrison yelled. He slammed the assassin against a bookshelf, the wood splintering. Books tumbled down like a landslide of history. "Go!"

“I found something in the path where we chased the assassins through.” I rushed up to him and took the little book in his hands from him. I had seen this book in Layla's s room a good number of times, and on it was written nothing, so we couldn't be sure what was inside. But if the assassin took the time to do this, then there must be something else going on.

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

Ellaine looked beside her and for a moment, she was distracted. Keisha lodges herself forward and kicks her in the face. "Fuck!" she screamed loudly, dropping the gun on the driver's side. Ellaine pushed the corpse away to try and get her gun back but Keisha would not allow it. "By now you probably know I'm an assassin,don't you?" Keisha asked while she was running out of breath. She kicked Ellaine in the face again, slamming her head against the front of the car. "A terrible one," Ellaine answered before grabbing Keisha's foot.

I would suit its back but time is not on my side. His glass door reveals he is neither in his ambiently lit kitchen nor his living room, but the security men from earlier at least denotes he is home and that is all that matters. Tucking my gun in its holster, I proceed to unlock the door with a central key. To become an assassin, you have to learn to pay more attention to details than even a forensic analyst. His door made not even a creak the last time I was here and now it is like I did not touch the door.

I wished, with a sudden, sharp ache in my chest, that someone would actually look at me like that for real. I dropped my iPad and leaned into the chair, closing my eyes. The assassination attempt on my father earlier that evening had drained the last of my adrenaline I was tired. I was stressed. And more than anything, I was desperate to feel something other than terror. I thought back to the night before. I had been on my way to find Kenneth, fueled by my friends' advice to "attack," to take control, to make him beg. My seduction plan had been interrupted by the alert of my dad’s murder attempt.

"It's one of the best-selling novels this year. The main characters are assassins and mercenaries, which made the book have a lot of blood and gore, and dark humor. The pacing and plot are great as well as the characters. It has a bit of romance, going from enemies to lovers." "Oh." Now, that caught my attention. "Definitely my type of story." I flipped the book to read its description on the back. "That's actually the last of the Agnis Trilogy." She fetched a couple of books from where I pulled the one on my hand and placed both over it. "First is The City of Flame, next is The Kingdom of Blades, and this, of course, is last." She tapped the books one by one. "Ah, thank you for telling, but