Dark Psychological Thriller Novels & Stories

I froze, stuck between the present and my past, no idea if I even had a future. The silhouette moved, its mighty paws taking a step closer into the dim moonlight. I gasped. My eyes gazed upon the darkest fur I had ever seen. It was darker than black. Its golden eyes pierced through my very soul. Thunder rumbled through him. Him? I didn't know how I knew this but I just did. Suddenly, he roared attempting to pounce. I jolted out of sleep, chest heaving frantically as I managed to catch my breaths.

"You know, those days with you were the worst of my life. I wish I knew you were this wicked, Elena." Elena smirked. "You brought out the beast in me, love. They say, 'Don't underestimate darkness' allure; even pure hearts are drawn to it.'All thanks to you." Alan begged nervously, "Today's a happy day; don't ruin it. Let's reschedule. I'll meet you, give you whatever you want." Elena laughed, raising her hands. "What more could I ask for? Check the news, Alan. It'll clarify things."

The voice is deeper, darker, promising dangers more than his words speak. An involuntary shiver racks through my spine, licking up every last bit of courage I thought I had. Back in his lair again? Why am I always the unfortunate one? “Just let me go, please.” I plead into the shadows, my eyes straining to find his solid frame. The darkness swallows all the detail. He remains quiet and for a moment I fear I have been hallucinating. There's a subtle shift in the air and I sense his presence. “I won't tell anyone about this, not the police, no one. Just let me go, please. I've done nothing wrong and you know it.”

“I can show you how a real killer works, Nova. But first, I’ll test your nerves. I’ll be in your house before you even realize I’m there, watching you sleep, deciding when to make you scream.” “You want inspiration? I’ll give you a front-row seat. You can watch me drain the life from someone, and then I’ll turn the blade on you. Let’s see how fast you can write then.” The comments are darker than usual today, each one dripping with malice. They’re waiting for her to slip up, waiting for her to realize how deep she’s gone into a world she doesn’t belong in. I can almost hear the sick amusement in their words, the thrill they get from tormenting her.

There were too many people for Matthew to feel comfortable being out in the open, but just enough that he felt confident that Juliet's captor, or someone working for them, would be present. Most criminals like to keep an eye on their crime. They thrive on the feeling of the hunt and the pride of knowing they were getting away with it, only feet away from a pair of cuffs and nothing was happening. “You’re not supposed to be here.” A man mumbled as he walked by. He brushed again Matthew, making him stumble back an inch, but the man didn't stop. He didn't need to. The transaction was smooth and well-trained, and Matthew did precisely what he was taught to do. He placed his hands in his pockets

“Is there a pattern between them?” “It's fucking brutal,” Rafael admitted exhaustedly, tapping down against the whiteboard to indicate his case notes. “It seems that a serial killer is on the loose. He kidnaps the girls, rapes them and then tortures them to death.” I jolted backwards, mortified at this revelation. “What a bastard,” Zayn gritted through clenched teeth, balling his hands into fists, his veins pulsating their way to the surface of his skin alarmingly as his blood began to boil.

"Have you ever felt like there's something dark inside you that you're afraid to look at?" Hope glanced at me. Then back to Adrian. "Sometimes." "What do you think about?" "That's private." "I think about hurting people. Not because I'm angry. Just to see if I could. To understand what my father felt when he did it." He said it casually. Like discussing homework. "Does that make me a monster?" "It makes you honest. Most people have dark thoughts. They just don't admit them." "Do you have dark thoughts, Hope?" "Everyone does."

The casual way he spoke about killing his own father made ice crawl down my spine. “You give me an heir,” he continued, voice thick with lust and power, “and I’ll give you the entire kingdom.” His hand around my throat loosened slightly, only for his fingers to trail down, brushing over my hard nipple through the soaked robe. I trembled, biting my lip hard to stop the moan threatening to escape. I was terrified. I was disgusted. Yet, the thought of being completely his, publicly and shamelessly made something deep inside me ache with dark longing.

I tried to touch his, intertwine our fingers so he wouldn't let go. But then, he was ripped away again, and Everything went white. I woke sitting upright, my breathing sharp and uneven, heart clawing at my ribs. The dark room loomed around me, foreign enough that it took a second to remember where I was. Lucien’s mansion. The glass house. My pillow was damp. My hands were shaking. And worse of it all—my throat hurt. Because I had been speaking out loud. It was more than a dream. A dream that felt too real.

His knees buckle and drop to the ground. The media and police call me silenzio, while the others just call Silenzio. I'm a serial killer and I work for the country's most notorious and dangerous dark Italian organization known as The obsidian Syndicate. I work in the organization merely to quench my blood thirst after the unfortunate incident that occurred in my life which has scarred me and turned me brutal, I was given several therapy sessions but none ever worked to bring me back to the man I used to be before the incident.