Hands Of The Killer Novels & Stories

Never hurt anyone intentionally, and now here I am, a murderer with blood on my hands. “I was about to ask you the same thing,” he answered, but for some reason, his words just don’t register in my head. He started walking towards me, and I scrambled further back, even though there wasn’t anywhere else to go. “Stay back. Don’t come nearer,” I shouted at him, pushing my hands in front of me in an effort to wade him off. My gaze gets caught by the blood on my hands, which is now drying. Everything in me froze as I’m unable to tear my eyes from my bloodied hands. It was proof that I was indeed a killer. A cold, heartless killer.

It shouldn't have sent heat pooling low in my belly, liquid and demanding. His hand released my wrist at last, only to plunge lower, sliding beneath the hem of my dress. The rough pads of his fingers scraped against my skin as they traveled upward, and I could feel every callous, every ridge of scar tissue. These were a killer's hands, and they were touching me with an intimacy that made my breath catch. Made me wonder how many people these hands had killed, and whether I'd be next. He growled into my mouth, swallowing my protest like it was something he could consume and make disappear. His fingers dragged over the bare skin of my thigh, hot and merciless, climbing higher and higher until t

It was the kind of place the past me would have killed to go on a girl's trip with Lenny on. I sat barefoot on the cool sand, silk trousers rolled up to my knees, my toes curled, and buried into the warm sand as if I could anchor myself to the earth and keep from drifting into the storm inside my chest. My hands wouldn’t stop trembling even now. I noticed this since retiring to my room after breakfast this morning. Even now, I keep staring at them, palms open, fingers curling and uncurling. These hands. The same ones I had used, unknowingly, to change everything. I had ended someone's life with these hands. Most times that day, I saw my hands covered in blood and I had to squeeze my eyes shu

I sneaked a look at Jenny’s phone and saw her phone still locked, she was frozen too with the same shaky hands I had. “Hand them over, now” the killer barked at us, extending his open palm in our direction. I jumped in my place at his high raised voice and automatically complied. While Jenny kept a firm hold on hers, looking at the killer with a cold, dark look. “I won’t repeat myself little girl, I might have my orders not to kill you, but ain’t nothing stopping me from shooting you in the damn leg. Hand it over!” he yelled at her. She gulped tightly and dropped the phone on top of mine into his hand.

And it’s too dark and bloody to tell, but the runner could be missing more than three fingers on each hand. My eyes examine the rest of the man’s body and that’s when I spot Killian leaning on one side of the wall. In his hand is a handkerchief which he uses to clean the blood off the knife that I assume he used to amputate the poor man in the chair. Killian looks up, holds my eyes, then his lips tip upward in a small smirk. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed hurting this man. I don’t get the time to open my mouth to ask Killian questions because Dante’s standing in front of me in a flash, his broad torso covering the gruesome sight.

As soon as she saw a shadow on the kitchen door, she attacked with the pan with full force on that serial killer's head. He let out a loud painful shriek "aaaahhhhh" Nandini didn't stop and kept hitting his head. "What the..." he started but Nandini didn't allow him to speak and seeing the opportunity , Nandini tried to attack him with the knife but that person was alerted by the sudden invasion. That killer pulled her towards him with a force and ceased the attack by holding Nandini's left hand and gripping her waist tightly.

Caden said. “The patrol maintains that the killer knew the hospital and manor grounds, and had been monitoring the sentinel system long enough to find possible loopholes and infiltrate.” “Stay here,” Ryker said and walked away. I watched him join the forensic officers. Caden opened the blanket again. Ryker's jaw hardened. I listened on their conversation “There's something else, Alpha,” one of the forensic sentinel said. Ryker inclined his head slightly. “Her right hand was in a fist when we found her,” the man said bending. “Something's stuck in it, and we've been trying to pry it open, but it's not…”

Too bad they hadn't counted on a weak heart. A bucket hit the ground next to her, making her jump. Water sloshed out the side, splashing her. There was a big foot in a leather boot next to the bucket. She followed it up, past denim-clad legs, to a belt, and a leather coat. His hands were hanging down, one close enough to her face that she could see the detailed tattoos covering the back of it. There were words on each finger, but she didn't know what they said, and a web with a spider on the back of his hand, a dagger and a rose with blood drops on his wrist. Through the ink she could see the veins popping out on his skin and winding up his wrist. She shivered and looked away. Those were the

I wore my gloves and checked their pulse and as expected they are dead . The funny thing is that during each autopsy, no finger prints are found. Another proof that the killer isn't human at all.

"What I wanted to ask you was... did you see anything else on him? Something sparkling? A golden chain necklace, or a ring?" More annoyance surfaced in my expression as I glared at him. "I resembled a zombie then. I was so exhausted that I probably wouldn't notice him wearing a golden jacket. I wouldn't even notice him passing me by if it weren't for this fucking wallet." "I see…" He gave me a thin-lipped smile. "Well, the killer cut off his little finger before he or she... did the rest, so I hoped that maybe you saw something." Dread filled me, making me nauseous. "Someone cut off his finger and then ripped his throat?" I said, nearly breathlessly.