Crime And Fiction Novels & Stories

The door opened, two unfamiliar faces, both guys. Without a word or hesitation, they went for her, they grabbed her and pinned her down to the ground roughly. Her head hit on the rough concrete floor and she sustained an injury on her head and she passed out. They tied her up and gagged her mouth. They help her hand side by side and dragged her out of the prison with her legs flowing behind. In another part of the building, there’s a hallway. It’s boldly written TOP BLOCK at the entrance. It was made specially for special members of the mob .

I left Aaron for the meantime on the part where the fountain pens are to go to the novel section. Since I saw Sophie Lark's Brutal Prince on TikTok's recommendation, people who have read this say that it has a strong female lead. I enjoy books of that genre, therefore I may be interested in reading it. I looked at the shelves. I also picked up a book and read the synopsis on the back when Aaron came to me here. "You like reading books?" he asked. I turned my eyes on him, "Uh, sometimes. If I'm interested in the plot," I answered.

“It’s just sad to think about how desperate some people must be to resort to crime. I mean, what drives someone to that point?” The driver nodded thoughtfully. “You’re right. Sometimes it’s about survival, but other times, it’s just greed. Either way, it’s the innocent people who suffer.” “I hope this doesn’t become a trend,” she said, glancing out the window at the passing buildings. “It feels like crime is on the rise lately.” She continued. “Yeah, It’s been a rough few months,” the driver admitted. “But you know what? We can’t let fear take over. We’ve got to keep living our lives, keep looking out for each other.”

Yeah, I was a mess. One suitcase is complete. I also have to put my shoes and bags in different suitcases. Edmund just stood and looked at the cramped apartment I rented. "Be rich, so you don't have trouble and don't commit crimes. Poor people are more likely to commit crimes, pickpockets, robbery, get drunk on dark streets, carry firearms with no purpose." "Even the rich are more criminals. Look at the mafia." "They play pretty, won't get caught and tidy. Poor people are very reckless." I keep putting all my needs in my suitcase, and it seems like I need three bags for this.

I’d eat it alive. It’s always this way with the guys who hang out in public areas. A twist under their skin, dark adrenalin rushing their veins. Filthy as ditch water, murky as their eyes. They’re looking for something, but when they get it they don’t know what they wanted to do with it, or why. Sometimes it’s fake—that consternation, that fear—but sometimes it’s not. There’s the City Library up in the capital. Coded knocks on bathroom stalls. Those scenic spots along the highways where people like to stop. Parks.

Innocent victims put through suffering at the hands of the perpetuators who were currently free men and a menace to the city because of the numerous unsolved cases that were now piled up. That was why she felt so passionately about her job which was making sure those sick bastards were eventually locked up behind bars and their victims set free or at least their families got some closure in the case of murder. The crime rate had recently reached an all time high and the office of the FBI was flooded with unsolved cases and deep dark mysteries. Charlie Brown knew what was going through everyone’s minds - the sudden rise in crime in this city had to have something to do with one or all of the

he smiled mischievously, humour in his expression, and she felt a sudden warmth spread through her, seeing a side to him that was endearing. “What is your favourite book Genevieve ?” he asked her as he put a piece of bread and cheese in his mouth. “I tend to read books on ghosts and things like that.” He laughed, “Why?” “I guess it’s the mystery of the unknown, the fascination of whether it’s true or not.” “I see what you mean. Everyone loves a good mystery don’t they? Especially to things that we can never really know the truth about.” He looked at her perceptively. Again she felt as though his words held hidden meaning and guilt flooded her at the thought of her true intentions.

“Or maybe you slipped. People do strange things under pressure.” Peter stiffened. “I didn’t do this.” “Oh?” Mark raised a brow. “Care to explain why CCTV shows you returning to the building on three of those nights?” Peter blinked. “What footage? I wasn’t here.” “Yet… the cameras say otherwise.” Mark tapped the table. “Hard to argue with video, isn’t it?” Peter felt the room closing in around him. Someone had not only forged his log-ins they had edited security footage too. This wasn’t sabotage.

• Death, murder, and violence – including gun violence, weapon use, and physical altercations. • Organized crime activity – depictions of mafia families, underground clubs, and illegal dealings. • Psychological trauma and PTSD elements – characters may display or relive traumatic experiences. • Self-harm or suicidal thoughts – referenced or portrayed within the narrative. This novel is intended for mature audiences only (18+). Reader discretion is strongly advised. If you find any of the above subjects harmful or difficult, this may not be the right book for you. Disclaimer This is a work of fiction. All names, characters, places, businesses, organizations, and events are either products of

“My name is Camile. And know that I’ve got pepper spray and a pocketknife in my bag!” I crush her fingers in panic. Now this man is going to shoot us in the face. But, surprisingly, he lets out an ironic chuckle. “And who will the madams be betting on today?” Who? So there are people? They bet on people? I have no idea what this little shit is talking about, but I can’t act dumb. Bets. That’s what goes on here. A casino maybe. Illegal gambling? Fuck. This place must be full of criminals. That’s it. I doubt he asks this kind of cocky question to regulars who frequent this place.