Conflicted Criminal Minds Novels & Stories

Gunnar asks in a scary voice that makes me visibly cringe. "I'm an assassin, Gunnar. My job is to have ears everywhere. And right now, the entire western hemisphere is buzzing with talk of war. A war that just so happens to be coming due to human auctioning. Apparently, some very powerful humans have discovered the supernatural black market. Many packs are siding with the upset humans. They want human flesh NOT to be sold. They say packs who purchase humans are stuck in time and are barbaric. The packs siding with the sells are, of course, saying it is time to end the facade that humans have any say," Hilda explains as her eyes flash to me.

The cage rattled as the man went into a violent, neurological shock, foam bubbling at the corners of his mouth. Timothy didn't feel a flicker of pity. He ripped through Lity’s mental defenses like a hot blade through plastic. Lity’s spine arched, a high, thin shriek echoing off the vaulted ceiling. The deeper Timothy dug, the more he wanted to vomit. The man’s mind was a grease fire of filth—visions of families he’d erased, the children he’d exploited for his own sick fetishes. Timothy stumbled back, his stomach rolling. A hot shower wouldn't scrub this kind of grime off his soul. He saw the bodies. The thousands of victims Lity had stepped over to build his empire.

Bluey nodded. “I’ll monitor the CCTV feeds and security movement from outside. If anything goes wrong, we’ll know immediately.” Drake’s gaze swept across the room again. “Our target is Romano X.” The atmosphere instantly darkened. Amy noticed how even the experienced mobsters straightened seriously at the name. Drake’s eyes turned cold. “He’s been interfering with my shipments for weeks.” His voice lowered dangerously. “And tomorrow night, we end it.” Silence followed. Amy felt sick. These people talked about violence as casually as discussing the weather.

The sheet made him shuffle awkwardly towards the bathroom and slowed him down. He didn’t like her being out of his sight, but he also didn’t want her listening to their conversation. He didn’t want her to know what he knew. She may have been a victim once. But when a captor inflicted enough damage onto a victim, they could become the criminal too. He hoped he was wrong, but Craig’s words made that hope fade. Alrick didn’t know what he’d do if he needed to find her guilty. He’d need to hand her over to NARC officials for a fair trial. Alrick hated himself for thinking of it.

I snorted. "I trip up cocky bastards like you all the time," John sat on the table, hovering above me. "You think you've got all the angles covered. You don't, Mr. Nyilas. People like you take things for granted, screw up and then you are all turning on each other like rats." "Ugh," I sighed. "Fine, Brainiac, what am I doing wrong? To clarify the question for you, what crime am I involved with that makes me a criminal, a terrorist, or a criminal terrorist?"

Didn't they know that the more they are inhibiting negative strains on their emotions, the more they will certainly get swallowed as a whole and would make their rational thoughts and consciousness dissipate away by obscurity? That the more agitated they become, the more confusion they would inevitably encounter. Of all the crimes they have managed to resolve in the past, and of all the crime suspects they have managed to chase and held captive in prison, didn't they even take their time to study and assess their behaviors and killer instincts?

He held my hand as tightly as he could, in case I ran away again. Coldly, I said, "I'm only doing this because I don't want my client to die during their stay. I'd have left anyone else for dead." Christopher still refused to let my hand go. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that I have you. And I do not have an affair with Lorelei. I will give you an answer about the diamond when the time comes." I rolled my eyes and ignored him. Instead, I put the medication in his hand. "Take your meds. I'll get something light for you."

Some of them were lucky enough to live, some miraculously escaped, and some of them were purposely left to live, but according to the report, they are all suffering from Aphasia. “It seems like he's close to making his crimes perfect. He might break his own rule and kill more if he gets excited.”Jake pointed out and my stomach sank. “Look at the last case. It's not as sloppy, and it looks like he's having fun. But look here, these weren't made by the same person. I think we're looking into three to five criminals who enjoy torturing their victims, but it seems like the leader makes the final and fatal blow.” I stopped reading because I suddenly felt nauseous. I can't believe there are human

Professor Ben paused for a little and looked everywhere in hope of a raised hand, but there was none. “Well, I tell you the answer is simple, because criminals tend to study that person’s behaviour whether they set their expectations or not. They make a chart, they preplan everything in order to plan a big crime that involves the victim. When the victim fulfils every point a criminal expects from the person, they attack. As you all see in many cases,” There were pictures of many girls on the screen showing them varying from teenagers to twenties.

"He's using my niece's vulnerability to rebuild his father's criminal empire. Someone needs to save her from herself before she destroys what little future she has left." Fury burned white hot in my chest. Richard was framing this as mental illness, as manipulation, as everything except what it really was his own conspiracy collapsing under scrutiny. "Tomorrow," I whispered to the empty room. "Tomorrow we burn your lies to the ground." Outside, sirens wailed in the distance. Another emergency somewhere in Los Angeles, another crisis for someone else. But my only crisis was locked in solitary confinement, carrying a child conceived through violence, planning revenge with the cold efficiency o