Hands Of The Killer Novels & Stories

AUTHOR’S POV: Once Zara passed out, the killer pulled his silver weapon out of his hood. He raised his hand in the air to finish his task and brought it towards her chest but someone stopped him by grabbing his hand in the air. The killer looked at his left to see the owner of the hand and was left shocked because the person standing in front, was least expected to be there. It was Sunny. Sunny eyes widen seeing the infamous killer so close to him. He was shocked but didn’t let the feeling take over himself and with all his might he pushed the killer harshly back. The hooded killer stumbled and fell into the cold water. Then moved towards Zara,

" Troublesome " A single word was enough to turn her blood cold. Her eyes snapped open more out of shock than fear this time. Before she stood none other than the gorgeous blond-haired Adonis she had met before. His blue eyes stared at her in disgust. Lisa was quick to notice the man that had once been her tormentor now slumped on the floor, in a red puddle of his blood. There was so much of it, that Lisa herself was drenched in it. The gun held between Killian's hands was the evidence that he had been the killer.

"That is not justice. That is paperwork." Karma said nothing. She was looking at his hands. She kept coming back to the hands — wide palmed, completely still, resting at his sides now. The hands that had written a false statement and signed his name beneath it to keep her free. She had surgeon's hands. Trained for precision, trained to hold steady when everything else was falling apart. His hands had held steady for her. She felt something move through her. Something that pushed against the inside of her ribs like it had been stored there for a long time and had simply, finally, been given permission to breathe.

When she stopped me from calling emergency services, she kept insisting the child couldn't be saved. In the end, the one who couldn't be saved was her own son. She had killed him with her own hands. The police began reviewing surveillance footage. The kindergarten cameras were broken, but the main road camera outside was working. In the footage, Esther could be seen driving in at a moderate speed. She glanced at the playground. Suddenly, she spun the steering wheel and headed straight for a group of children. She didn't try to break. She drove right into them. The police also pulled up messages from her phone.

“Hands on the tiles. Ass out. Don’t make me tell you twice.” Water cascaded over both of them as Jax yanked his own shorts down, freeing his cock. It slapped heavily against Alex’s ass cheek, already rock-hard again. The quarterback soaped up his hands generously with the dispenser on the wall, then ran them over Alex’s body—rough, possessive strokes that cleaned nothing and claimed everything. Big palms squeezed his slim waist, slid down to knead his ass cheeks, spreading them wide under the spray. “Look at this mess,” Jax murmured, thumb circling the puffy, cum-leaking rim. “My load still dripping out. Good. Means you’re marked.”

I let the forty men watching us lean forward until I can hear the collective scrape of their boots on the floorboards. I step forward. My boots make no sound against the spilled beer on the floor. I place my left hand flat on the oak tabletop. My fingers are long. My skin is pale, completely unmarked by scars. In this room full of scarred brawlers and heavy muscle, my hand looks like a piece of porcelain. It looks like it belongs to a singer, not a killer. I wrap my fingers around the cold hilt of the moonstone dagger. The chill of the stone instantly seeps into my palm.

Andy stepped back and held Janet’s hand before covering her behind him. Janet turned to the other side and took a pole of lamp shade handed over to her by one of the colleagues and handed it over to Andy. Hearts were racing as the killer tilted his head and walked toward the dead woman on the floor.

She slapped a hand over her mouth. George lifted his head. "Remove that hand." "Absolutely not." "Kristine." His voice was dangerously calm. "Remove. The hand." "People can hear—" "Nobody can hear anything. Remove it or—" he tilted his head thoughtfully, "—I'll bite this... he touched her wet dripping pussy.... off and you'll cry in pain. Your choice." She stared at him. "You would not—" "Try me." "You're a doctor, you took an oath—"

Deep lines, wrinkles, creases that hadn't been there minutes ago. "No... this can't be happening!" She staggered back, ready to bolt—then stopped cold. Every camera was locked on her. Teeth clenched, she forced a smile. "That doesn't matter. What matters is solving the case!" She tried to rally. "The most distinct trait of the killer is his hands—" But before she could land the point, a reporter pushed through the crowd. "Breaking news! The Carmoria State Bureau of Investigation just caught the real killer!"

My classmates turned their heads up to us. There was a look of astonishment on their faces. Even if they wanted to ask, they could not and chose to remain silent and just listen to me and Clark talking. I laughed out loud. “It's okay if you don't ask for help anymore. It is also a waste of time because it is just crazy that you think one of us is a murderer.” Ace stood up from his seat. “What do you mean, Xienne? Clark is thinking that the killer is one of us here?”