Criminal Minds The Performer Mga Nobela at Kwento

I offer a crooked smile, leaning forward. “Relax. I’m not the one bleeding.” She nods too quickly and scurries away. Her eyes are wide—she recognizes me. My face is getting too fucking familiar these days. That’s the problem with fear. It makes people remember. And yet, I haven’t even done anything that bad. I haven’t killed anyone yet. Not with my own hands. Sure, I’ve broken bones, cracked ribs, made a few faces unrecognizable. But no corpses—not yet. Still, they look at me like I’m already a ghost-maker.

I had never been treated like this before, even the kids who had bullied me for being an orphan all those years back seemed less scary than this man right now. It angered me at the treatment that he gave me but I was angrier at the way I had let him treat me. I knew that he was a murderer and I knew that he was that kind of person who bought people’s honesty with money and yet just because I saw some crazy delusional visions of the future I had ignored all these red flags and came here. For what? A happy future that I believed this man could provide me? I bet that he had never even brought a single smile on a person’s face.

I was a ghost, a nobody, tethered to nothing and no one. That changed when I was nine. I didn’t see the men coming—just felt the prick of a needle in my arm as I walked home from the market, my vision blurring as the world tilted sideways. When I woke up, I was in a dank basement, my wrists bound, my clothes torn. They didn’t care that I was a child. They raped me, broke me, then sold me off like livestock to a mafia outfit run by a brute named Marcus. He was a monster—huge, with hands that left bruises and a laugh that chilled my blood.

“Innocent? Ha! He is a Matthews. He's a fucking murderer! He spend the rest of his life behind bars, where he deserves to be!” “NO!!” She cries out, scrambling to her knees. “He's a murderer!” The van leaves, but people appear in the trees, just out of her line of vision. They chant loudly, “Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.” The bodies on the groud rise to chant with the rest of the town. “Murderer. Murderer. Murderer.”

After a while, the conclusion seemed as simple as two plus two. Humans are rotten. Some more than others. Contaminated souls who feed on cruelty. And if those applauding the show are monsters, what does that make me, providing the main entertainment? “Welcome back to the Blood Ring, the esteemed, the beast, the biting threat, the undefeated reigning champion, Don: The Pitbull!” The applause explodes in the air. The thirst for destruction thickly crawls down my throat. I wonder if I was ever a good man. But then I conclude that good men would never do what I’ve done and would never find violent pleasure in doing what I do.

And suddenly, they see a shortcut, a shorter route which would release them from the suffering they were subject to, and they go for it. ‘While executing the shortcut, some of them fumble,’ continued the inspector. ‘Why? Simple ... they fumble because they are amateurs! Some are so overwhelmed by their success, they end up doing crazy things. Husband murders wife but wants to kiss her one last time allowing the servant to spot him. Son murders father, and instead of running away, he starts looking for his father’s pen. Why? He wants to have a souvenir of the bad times. His sister walks in, and then he has no place to hide. These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloo

"Thanks, Mother. I just hope we get this project. I want to see Jared Winter lose. I don't want to punish him because he cheated on me. I want to see his downfall because he's not a good person. He's a real Devil under the human skin, Mom. He does illegal things, hiding from everyone. He is the most sinister person I have ever seen in my life." My body quivered when those dreadful memories flashed in my mind. "It would be wrong to call him a human because he is a psycho killer. Who not only kills people mercilessly but eats their flesh too. He is a monster. Human trafficking, drug trafficking, extortion murder, robbery, smuggling, arms trafficking, gambling, prostitution, pornography, money

Frederick’s satisfaction with his informants’ work quickly faded as he absorbed the chilling reality. Leonard Hugues, 32 years old. One of the five executives of Lafleur, the most notorious criminal organization in Marseille. Known for his unmatched combat and weapon skills. A man whose brutality knew no bounds. “He killed two unarmed men just for touching his woman?” Frederick murmured, astonished. He let out a strained laugh, attempting to mask his growing unease. “I never imagined my brother would raise such a monster.” His gaze shifted to Jacques, who stood silently, visibly uneasy. Jacques seemed on the verge of speaking, but hesitation held him back, leaving Frederick to wait impatient

“She'd never kill anyone, Mandy is a naive woman. I am not a murderer! I'm an employed driver and bodyguard. ” Ramirez’s eyes narrowed, clearly not convinced. “So you expect us to believe that you were just an innocent bystander? That Mandy too is a saint?” Cain nodded desperately. “Yes! It is what it is.” Ramirez leaned forward, his expression cold. "I've been in this business for years. I know criminals like you, an I know just well how to handle you.” With that, Ramirez stood up and signaled to the officers waiting outside. “Lock him up. We’ll deal with him later.”

“Has he just not been able to get to Aurora and just grabbed someone that looked similar? That doesn’t make sense to me. It seems like there is something more that we are missing. Something that sets him off and makes him want to find a victim and kill them. Then, I wonder if he is after Aurora to kill her or if he just wants her for himself. Don’t these obsessive types most of the time see the one they are after as a trophy?” “Potentially.” Detective Clements answered. “Who knows what he is thinking. That’s another reason I think it is so important for us to wait for the experts to make any big moves. They have studied criminals their entire careers. They can tell us what type of perpetrato