Finest Assassin Novels & Stories

she called out. “I’m fine,” he ground out. “Stay behind me.” The assassin twisted, kicking up a spray of mud as they darted around Kai with inhuman agility. Elise barely had time to throw herself to the side before a blade sliced through the space where her throat had been. Lightning flashed—white, blinding—and for a split second she saw the assassin’s eyes. Hollow. Empty. No hesitation. No emotion. This was no scout. No spy. This was a hunter.

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.

he praised, then released his grip. The two daggers immediately sliced straight into the concrete pavement like it was nothing. Behind him, the trench coat assassins stiffened for a breath before collapsing one by one, their faces frozen in terror even in death. From the other side of the alley, the braided assassin among the two remaining men began applauding. "Beautiful. Truly beautiful. 23 of the Cunningham family's elite, all wiped out just like that. Do you realize those 23 men were worth twenty-three billion? And you butchered them without blinking. Such a waste of money, don't you think?"

“Someone explain to me why that name sounds like the apocalypse.” Lena studied her. “You’ve never heard of him?” “No.” “That’s actually impressive,” Lena said. Then she turned back to Arun. “He’s careful with his reputation.” Arun exhaled slowly. “Yes. He is.” Alina’s patience snapped. “Okay, enough mysterious silence. Who the hell is he?” Lena answered. “He’s the best assassin alive.” Alina frowned. “There are plenty of those.” Lena shook her head. “Not like him.” She stepped closer, her boots echoing softly on the concrete.

I spat bitterly. "You've got a point there." Ares said, "isn't it time for him to resign yet? He's like seventy, no?" I fought the urge to laugh at what he said before correcting, "He's fifty. I don't think he'll resign for another thirty years." We both stopped when we entered the hall. "See you around, il mio adorabile assassina." Ares said with a smirk. (My lovely killer/assassin) "That's a hell of a way to call a cold blooded assassin." I scoffed, my eyes darting around the place, looking for my father, ignoring all the eyes on me.

Mayari ignored Jim's remarks as she sat on the nearby chair and place her hand on the table that separated her from the elf. "I'm not here to say hi." she coldly stated. "Now start talking." "You're no fun." He sneered. "The truth is, I don't really know who's the mastermind of this case." "You're an assassin that is paid by an anonymous client." Mayari concluded. She knew the field very well. Jim was surprise that she was able to quickly grasp the situation. Nevertheless, she reached his expectation. "Yes." Jim nodded. "But judging by the amount of money he paid for the Royal Family's assassination and the very accurate information he have about the Royals, there is a high probability that

She rose before the sound finished echoing, already moving, already hunting. She didn’t see the first assassin until he was on her. Camouflage. Masked. Knife in hand. They crashed against a column with a sickening thud, his blade scraping her side as she twisted, kicked, flipped him over her shoulder. The second came from behind, but she’d already dropped and rolled, firing twice into his abdomen, feeling the recoil in her ribs. Tomaso got the third—barely—before it reached the inner vault stairwell. Alessio found the last one near the war room, standing above one of the analysts, gun raised. He didn’t hesitate. One shot. Between the eyes.

I slowly wrap my hand around the hilt of the knife strapped to my back. "She is reaching for her knife!" One of the assassins behind me yells. I recognize his voice. His name is Frank, and he is the absolute worst assassin that Faris put on his payroll. "Oh, shut up, Frank," I yell as I turn and throw the knife in his direction. It sticks out of his chest, and he stumbles back against the wall. "This is why no one likes you," I mumble. "She just killed Frank," one of the other men says.

Only then would I find true peace. After all, what could possibly be that hard about it? From what Shawn had revealed last night before passing out, this assassin was a legendary professional who used a high-caliber sniper rifle for his missions. The man could sit from a comfortable, mile-long distance on a rooftop and effortlessly gun Elara down in broad daylight, and no one would ever suspect a thing! I hissed. Let me see how that bitch’s precious tech knowledge and cybersecurity empire would save her from a bullet tearing through her skull.

No one could stop them. By the time the assassins were done, the floor was littered with bodies and there was not a single surface that had not been splattered with blood. The tallest masked assassin who seemed to be the leader caught my eye. He looked like what the legends had described. He was the silent reaper. He was the leader of the others, and he opened the door and in stepped Jameson's father. Jameson's father preceded the masked assassin at his tail like a loyal servant. He proceeded towards us, each step bold and smug.