Female Assassin Novels & Stories

I entered my room and locked the door from the inside, with a sigh, I walked to my bed and emptied the file contents on the bed. I read the papers about the lady to understand her as much as possible and observed the photo as well as I could. Turns out she's a retired twenty seven years old teacher who makes a living by selling her body to whoever wants it. Retired at twenty though? So maybe she had fun with the wrong man and now his wife is out to get her? Who cares though, I'm getting paid. I could call in sick tomorrow and figure out how to take her out, since I don't want to drag this, instant death is the best option hm?

she replied with a strict cold tone. Martina was a dangerous woman, one you wouldn't suspect to be who she really is. She's been trained in the arts of assassination for well over 30 years and knows how to kill a man with a paper clip and rubber band in more than 14 ways. She's not one to be messed with, which is why she works for me. She's someone I call whenever I needed to take care of a certain associate who just isn't acting right, and when I call, she answers. I pay her to stay on the down low and simply work for me alone instead of many others out there who are dying to have her on their side.

Looking through the scope of the magnified glass attached to her weapon, she held her breath as the chest of one of her target’s bodyguards appeared on the crisscross mark, which was immediately followed by the bald head of the yakuza boss. She moved the gun slightly once more to the right while maintaining the crisscross mark on his head before she squeezed the trigger. A second passed before the man dropped like a log, which prompted his men to instinctively draw out pistols from their inner jackets as they scanned the area for where the bullet came from. Kimberly immediately returned the gun and leather gloves into her suitcase before making her way out of the building through the emerge

The outsiders — our enemies think they could use it against us, but they are so naive to think that. In my world there is no place for mercy. We have a female assassin who slaughters them without any emotion. I'm so proud of her. At first, I underestimated her, thinking she could be a weakling when I was in camp to hire a female assassin and the owner provided me with her. She was a grade A assassin and I saw why. She deserves that position. Her name is Sloane Mercer. Now back to the story. "W-Why are you doing t-this to me?"

He then smirked and moved his face closer. "A little impatient, are we?" "I don't know what game you are playing, but if you want a fight, then let's do that! Stop pinning me on this damn bed!" "Why would I? I like it this way. The only first class female assassin in House of Spades, under me... on my bed... in my room." "You are really testing my patience, aren't you?" "Hmm..." "If it's true you are the patron for this mission, then that means you want to die. Why don't you let me do my job? It would be my pleasure."

I didn't remember what I was like before the accident, but I was sure I wasn't a flowery girl with hearts and unicorns spilling out of my eyes. From the guns and knives hanging on racks in my weapons place, I was definitely hardcore and gritty. Female assassins didn't wear dresses with sweetheart necklines or dinner dresses with pencil heels, not unless they were undercover and wanted to fool someone. No!

Assess. The hands on me. They were firm, but… there was a difference. I’d spent years in a world of men; their grips, their shifts in weight, the way they manhandled you. All the people I’d put down had been men. These hands, even through gloves, lacked that… heft. The pressure was distributed differently. Softer bones. Women. An assassin? Doubtful. Their movements were clumsy and were fueled by nervous energy, not cold precision. No, this wasn’t professional. This was personal. They weren’t here to kill me; they wanted to scare me.

I scoffed, staring intently at the TV. ​He was simply a prick who deserved to die. I had merely gotten rid of their trash. ​I threw myself onto the couch, taking one big gulp from the bottle in my hand, not bothering to change out of my clothes. My apartment was a mess; I rarely had time to take out the trash. ​My name is Evelyn. I work for an Organization that specializes in weaponizing young girls into deadly assassins and assets for big shots who want to clean up messes. ​I snapped out of my thoughts when my watch began beeping. It meant I had another assignment. This made me frown; I wasn't supposed to take up another job on the same day as a hit.

He wasn't going to kill her… at least not yet, not until he's gotten reasonable answers from her. “I-I don't know, but it was instinct.” She stammered before gaining her voice back. “Instinct? What kind of maid instinctively knows how to handle a glock?” he asked suspiciously. His eyes raked her body from top to bottom. Alina was undeniably beautiful. Even with her hair cut into a bobbed hairstyle, it matched her sharp features more. Her lips, cheeks and nose had this permanent flush that made her look innocent — completely hiding the fact that she's a bred assassin.

He can't even bear the thought of killing someone. "Aren't you a badlander? A badlander and death are always mentioned in the same sentence." "Are you not?" Alessia huffed. "I am from Caelum. I do not associate myself with dirty bastards from the Badlands as much as possible." A human? What is one doing this far away from Caelum? "I'm surprised you're still alive, honestly." She snickered. "Again, I'm an assassin. I've been around the world for missions. But, why would you kidnap Marika?"