Criminal Novels & Stories

He gives his opponent one long menacing look before he bears his fangs and bites right into the other's shoulder. Krystal and I both gasp as the big Cok rips a large chunk of skin and muscle from the smaller's shoulder. A river of dark red blood sprays the battered ground and I begin to feel sick. The smaller Cok holds his composure though. He doesn't call out in pain, and he doesn't release his hold on the larger champion. He instead headbutts his opponent for a second time. The larger Cok's grip slips, and he releases the blood-stained champion. The larger Cok stumbles backward and the injured fighter strikes like a cobra. The larger Cok falls to the ground asleep and my mouth falls open a

Why is karma such a sucker? Nick ran the opposite direction and hid behind a boulder with chains strapped around it. Unluckily, the chains were enchanted and trapped him. The skeletal creature came, spreading its arms and bringing its crooked fingers toward Nick's face. Closer... Closer... It came.

With everything going on with Ryan, I don't want Mollie stressing out during the first trimester of her pregnancy. Jackson called this morning and said that Ryan was found and taken into custody and charged with an account for attempted assault on a pregnant woman and for plotting a murder against a police officer. We were all relieved to hear that we no longer have to worry about him, but I'm not letting my guard down for nothing.

"On the five charges of Grand Larceny, we, the jury, find the accused, Derrik Preston, guilty on all counts.” “On the six counts of Aggravated Stalking, we. the jury, find the accused, Derrik Preston, guilty on all counts.”

I replied. "Business. Define businesses Miss Alessandro?" He wanted me to say it. He wanted to know that I had no problem or issue with it. That even though he was what he was I wouldn't see him differently. And I didn't. "Substances trafficking, arms trade, interference with the Italian Mafia. And lastly and the most disturbing of them all, ownership of plenty sex shops and pleasure houses." I didn't breath until I stopped talking. "Pleasure houses?" He laughed.

she replies, shrugging with indifference. "Actually, Annabelle, there is. Criminal impersonation isn't a constitutional right; it's a prosecutable offense," Jordan states firmly. "Under Title 18, U.S. Code, Section 1028, the use of a fraudulent identity or a prosthetic likeness to commit a felony—in this case, attempted homicide and conspiracy—is a major violation. You didn't just 'test a look'; you utilized a deceptive identity to facilitate a crime. That's a statutory violation." "It wasn't!" she seethes, slamming her hand against the table.

Hence with this concept and sentiment, the good side of it (the reasonableness way of doing things) had then been overshadowed by the dark cloud. Malice aforethought became the order of the day; anywhere they are found in the world. Initiating an unseen criminality record ever practiced by a black community in the world. Where cerebrations and intentions behind a wrongful act is well simulated without shame. A mens rea (knowledge that the act is illegal) well garnered and sponsored. Backed by high government officials of their country at times.

Obviously, she did not have much on her sleeves to be used by someone like them. However, Harvey simply smiled and said, "You two don't have many talents, but you're so talented at framing others. But you forgot one thing. According to Country A's laws, you trespassed on private property, which makes you a criminal. According to our country's law, you possess firearms, which also makes you a criminal.

He was gone. Fuck.

But the most dangerous thing was his smile. Loose. Confident. Like he knew he was the most handsome man here, and he wasn’t about to apologize for it. I narrowed my eyes. “You know criminal law terms?” He arched a brow, took a sip. “Mens rea, actus reus, corpus delicti. They sound much more compelling coming from lips like yours.” I stared at him. “That’s… embarrassing. And doesn’t even make sense.” His laugh was low, rich, the kind that settled in your chest like old bourbon. He stepped closer and sat on a boulder a foot away. Not too close. But close enough for his cologne to steal the air.