Dead Assassin Novels & Stories

Arya had to clap his hands to his mouth to stop himself from screaming. It was the most unnerving sight they had ever seen. Esha’s body lay motionless on the floor. There was a scary calmness on her face as she lay there, face up – her bloodshot eyes staring up blankly at the ceiling. A light green camisole barely covered her pale, lifeless body. Her black trousers were shining with the light coming from the street. There was a pool of blood next to her head. Everything else seemed to be in order. The huge glass windows were shut; the furniture was in place. The back door, however, was open.

he places his hand on his chest, feigning confidence. "Conceded much?" I ask him boldly, cutting his sentence off and leaving my fear in the dust. He chuckles deeply causing my heart to clench, uncomfortably. My father is dead in front of me, a bullet wound to his head and here I am, laughing with a strange, 7-foot man who shouldn't be in my house. "Well baby, I'm death, nice to meet you," I know it was dumb, but I broke into laughter. "Yeah, and I'm Demeter now get out before I call the cops," I glance back over at my father as he lies in a pool of his blood.

Death. I'd killed him. The room erupted into chaos. Some people fled. Others pointed and shouted. And through it all, I stood frozen, staring at my hands like they belonged to someone else. "Tate." Mathias's voice broke through the noise. "Sweetheart, look at me." I couldn't. Because lying on the floor where the man had been standing was a small black moon pendant—the symbol of the Nightshade Pack. "He was one of them," Daxon breathed. "An assassin."

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

“Guess you can see that for yourself.” I remained silent, my expression unreadable. I started toward the door, but Casey shifted, blocking my path. “You know,” he said, voice casual, “I’m actually glad he’s gone.” That made me pause. My eyes narrowed slightly, a silent demand for him to continue. Casey’s lips curled into something that wasn’t quite a smile. “I knew what you were from the beginning. Assassin. A famous one, at that.” He tilted his head, watching me carefully. “I always wanted to warn Gerald, tell him exactly what kind of woman he was dealing with. But I didn’t, because I was afraid.”

“You can’t die.” I could feel something within me tear apart, and warm liquid gushed down my thighs. I knew exactly what that was. In the previous timeline, just as I was about to die, I heard the cry of an infant. This time, I did not have the chance to hear even that. After some time, the shooting stopped. The leader of Enzo’s personal soldati had arrived with reinforcements. The night was filled with the noise of footsteps, shouts, and the static of walkie-talkies.

He died thinking he had failed to kill the sleeping witch. "The Lugal... is... blind," he gasped. "The witch... will be the end... of us all." His jaw worked once. A sharp click echoed in the silence. I realized what it was a millisecond too late. I jammed my fingers into his mouth to stop him, but the capsule had already broken. The smell of bitter almonds and scorched ozone filled the air. The assassin’s body convulsed. His eyes rolled back into his head. His veins turned a sickly, translucent purple as the neurotoxin raced toward his heart. Within three seconds, he was limp.

We pull up to the hidden apartment on the outskirts of town, hidden beneath a warehouse we infiltrate the area, pushing doors open and finally landing at the door My heart pounds in my chest, this is it, this is the person we have been looking for, finally, we can be free from his clutches My anger builds in anticipation as we push the door down, and my blood runs cold immediately at the sight as we enter the apartment The assassin is lying on the floor, dead, with a bullet in between his eyes, blood pooling around his head, and running down the wooden floorboards. My heart races, my fingers clenched into fists in anger at the sight as I pick up the single piece of paper on the floor, sealed

Elina POV The car was too quiet. Too still. As if the silence itself feared him. I sat pressed against the door, heart beating so loud it echoed in my ears. Aziel Valerie King. The name alone sent chills down spines in the underground. They said he was the ghost behind a hundred assassinations, the architect of gang wars that left the entire group extinct. The man who smiled while blood spilled at his feet. They said Aziel didn’t just kill, he erased them from the face of earth. And I’d watched it happen. No hesitation, no flicker of humanity..just a bullet and silence.

And now only less than then assassins are left standing. One of the assassins took off its mask. It is a middle aged man. A man familiar to me. "El Morte," I said under my breath. It is the name of the guild. And the man who took of his mask is one of their first class assassins, Franco. I know him because we once fought but he escaped when he got severely injured. Didn't know he actually survived that. "Isn't it ironic? Werewolves are very strict when it comes to morality, and yet you are with an assassin from House of Spades?" Franco said playfully as his eyes drifted to me.