Invisible Black Knife Assassin Novels & Stories

Stepping on the gas, we zoomed out of the school parking lot, leaving a frightening roar behind. I massaged my forehead as I groaned, "Well, couldn’t you have said that like a normal person? I am already dealing with a venomous headache." "Venomous?" she asked, amusement evident in her tone. She kept her eyes on the road, and I could not help but think back to the time some assassins tried taking her out as she drove. This woman could kill three men in thirty seconds with one hand while the other drove. And if bullets weren’t fired, there wouldn’t be a scratch on the car.

Six assassins in black emerged from the shadows, their flashlights cutting through the gloom like the eyes of hungry hyenas. With the lights focusing on her, there was no escape. The only path to survival was through them. Amber's eyes burned with determination as she charged forward. Her dagger slashed through the neck of the nearest assassin, a swift and brutal strike. She moved with desperate precision, aiming for vital points. Her unexpected ferocity startled the man, who had clearly underestimated her. His flashlight clattered to the ground, and blood gushed from his neck. Amber seized the opening, surging ahead without hesitation. After all, this might very well be her only chance. It

His face seemed so pained showing he was beaten up. Alison felt she couldn't breathe. She didn't need anyone to tell her that something bad was about to happen. And then she saw him. The fourth man stepped out of the shadows with his movement calm and deliberate. He didn't speak, he didn't need to cause his eyes and sharp features seemed to absorb the darkness around him. He was dressed in all black. As he got closer, the man kneeling started struggling to escape, but it was pointless. It looked like the fourth man was there to finish the job.

The assassin awoke quickly and leaped, staring intently at Henry. "Don't be too nervous. You wouldn't have woken up if I wanted to hurt you," Henry said casually. "Why?" the assassin asked. Henry did not answer his question. Instead, he said, "Sven Cuthman, also known as the Seven Blades. You're not affiliated with any assassin organization and are ranked 26th on the assassin-ranking list." "How do you know me?" With a faint smile, Henry said, "You told me." "Impossible! I don't even know you!"

Enzo crawled on the floor while holding his phone. While Catriona already settled and hid in the corner ready to shoot anytime. The shadow from the intruder looks like one who knows Kung Fu. He was covered up in black suit—like a ninja. Then something hit him. Is this Alanis's assassins? "It's an assassin from Alanis's." He mouthed and she sighs. The bullet is faster than the sword.

I could barely focus, no matter how hard I tried to push through the curiosity that tugged at me; I just couldn’t stop thinking about the mysteries that haunted me. The assassin, the Narthish knife, and the amber green pair of eyes that burned into mine with such hatred that I didn’t think it was humanly possible. A hatred so raw it felt like a blade pressed to my throat. Murderous and unrelenting.

It’s almost as if all sound has been sucked out of the area. Taking the knife from his hand, I stab him in the ribs. Stabbing someone is not fun but necessary in this situation. The feel of the blood flowing through your fingers and the sounds of the knife digging into fat and muscle can give anyone nightmares. Once I remove the blade, Victor falls to the ground with a wheezing gurgle. His back heaves as he struggles for breath. It’s a painful way to die, but I feel no remorse. Not when this monster was out to kill the woman I love.

he finished as he rose. The room, surrounded by his fifteen elite, he froze midway through his rise, transfixed by the sight of the assassin before him. Everything that happened next happened at once, and yet he watched it as if it were intended for him to see. In the man’s grip came a burst of flame, and from the space around his hand a blackness spilled from somewhere within the light like a pool of blood from an unattended injury, smoke rising as it came to life, drawn from a place Maekil could only surmise to be an abomination. And when it was over, like the tale of the Shadow Child, in his grip rested two short swords like the falchions of great archers who bore the battlefront in the a

I ask because I can’t get the question out of my mind. “I was bringing tea to her.” He says. “Did you kill the assassin or not?” I ask impatiently. “I did. With this very knife.” He says and flaunts a short curved knife that looked like it was passed down from a million generations. “Let me guess, family heirloom?” he nods and hand it to me. “Use it as you deem fit.” He says and leaves. What just happened?!

They got off too easy. Even unharmed, it doesn’t relinquish the air of danger that clung to him. Niko stalks forward as though daring someone to make a wrong move. No one moves, I doubt anyone even breathes. I sure as hell didn’t. Crouching low before one of the dead men, he pulled out a knife stuck in the man’s throat hilt first, the blade of the darkest night it was almost black came out bloody, He flicks the knife once causing a drop of blood to fly. “Bring him”