Death Gun 소설 & 이야기

When our whole family saw the death timer for my sister will end on her sixteenth birthday, she became the most important person in the family. She suddenly took priority in everything, from food to dresses, and even bedtime stories. I felt for her, but I was also jealous that she was given everything. However, a day before her sixteenth birthday, my parents locked me up in the storeroom in fear that I would make a mess of things. I kept hammering the door, crying, "Mom, let me out! I'm having a fever, and my head hurts!" Mom didn't believe me. "Just stop! Your sister will die in just a day, and you're playing sick to gain our sympathy?! Don't you understand anything?!" "No…" I tried m

He didn't even bat an eye. And, as if he wasn't content with that, Dionysus signaled his men and all of them fired their rifles towards the dead bodies of the three bulky men all at the same time, not showing any mercy at all. The firing noises weren't that loud because their rifles have silencers adhered to them. After those relentless killings, Dionysus walked outside the warehouse like no killings had happened. After that, Sebastian and all of his men had poured gasoline all over the place and it took nearly ten lazy minutes for them to finish that.

I pointed the handgun trying to take an aim at the target as she tried to keep his lips away from her neck. "Fire him, right now!" Diana yelled at me. I'm afraid of striking her instead, however, if I don't fire, she'll die for certain. So I drew the trigger after taking a long, strong, and steady breath. Diana pulled his immobile corpse away from her with a nasty expression on her face when the bullet struck the top part of his skull. She scraped the rotten's blood from her arm and knelt to get her shotgun. She smelled once, and I believe she recognized she was on the verge of death.

Eric said coolly, his tone sharp enough to cut glass. Rex’s eyes darted to Damien, who was calmly examining a sleek, custom-made gun. A shiver ran down his spine. He recognized the weapon—a modified Smith & Wesson, known for its devastating effects. The bullets it fired didn’t just kill, they tortured, leaving behind excruciatingly slow, acid-induced agony. It was an acid that burned through everything until the pearly white bone was exposed. That pain alone would have people begging for death over mercy. Mr. Damien, I-I’m not sure of the purpose of your visit. V-velvet vipers hasn’t interfered with the Cross’s business—”

After catching my supposedly frigid wife, Emmy Winslow, aroused by our household robot butler, I swallowed my disgust and sent the machine to a destruction facility. I never expected that decision to cost her life. On the way to chase after the robot, Emmy was involved in a horrific car accident and died at the scene. From that day on, I became notorious in our social circle as the jealous husband who drove his wife to her death. Five years passed. Night after night, I tortured myself by wondering if she would still be alive had I not been so petty over a machine. Until today, while discussing business at a private club, I passed a half-open VIP suite and heard one of Emmy's closest frie

“But don't worry! Dying is the first step.” Dead? My blood ran cold. He smirked. “Just don’t do it again.” “This is nonsense. I refuse to listen. Let me out of this fucking insane bus,” I yelled, hitting the metal ground with my right foot. The man was too cold. Too cold to the point you could not look into his eyes for too long. As if he was a grim reaper. “It’s too late. The game has already been activated, and you have been registered as a player.” His voice was too quiet. Too hazardous.

Layla's fans sang her praises, saying that she was kind, beautiful, and the best sister in the world. It was raining on the day they cremated my remains. Layla carried the urn containing my ashes and pretended to shed a few tears. I moved toward her. Then, I tried to punch and kick Layla to try and get her hands off me. It was so revolting. Everything about this world sickened me. I dropped to the ground after having exhausted myself. Then, I watched as they put me inside a small box. The words, "Our dearest daughter, Hazel Larson", could be seen on the rectangular tombstone. How ironic.

Her screams rose, high and raw, a sound of sheer panic and horror that drowned out the pounding in my ears. I stared at the smoking gun in Ezra's hand, then at the lifeless body. Ezra was trembling violently, his terrifying calm utterly shattered. He had killed for me. And now, my sister was screaming. ************************* Ezra's POV: The roar of the shot still echoed in the confined space, a sound so final, so absolute. The smell of burnt powder instantly coated my tongue. I stood frozen in the shattered doorway, the customized Glock 19 heavy and hot in my hand. My eyes were fixed on the corpse—Dexter, his chest blossoming with crimson, his body a sickening sprawl on the floor.

"Listen to this! Listen carefully to the audio and tell me what you mean by this!" The vicious recording was played again from the phone. Jayson's face turned deathly pale, his eyes filled with unconcealed terror. But he still tried to deny it, attempting to turn the situation around with his horrible acting. "No, wait, this isn't me! It's made with AI! Joshua must have gotten someone to do it! He's trying to frame me!" "Joshua is dead!" Mom screamed, lunging at Jayson and grabbing his neck in a chokehold. "He's been dead for three years! You killed him! It was you!"

His eyes shone crimson as he licked his blood strained lips. "This". He held the glass. Leaning back into Stephen’s chest sniffing his neck. It soothed him. Relaxed him. "Good one Callum . It’s a deer. You sure you want this"? Saint reconfirmed. Callum nodded a yes and the next moment they all gasped when Saint took all shots bottom up. "Yumm". They all laughed looking at him enjoying the treat. "Someone taking lessons. Wow. It’s not so you Stephen". Suddenly the door opened to Zol and they all were shocked.