Invisible Black Knife Assassin Novels & Stories

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”

Before I could even call out for Lucien, Gabriel, or Jacob, a figure jumped out from the dark. It was an elite assassin. He wore a black leather mask and dark clothes that made absolutely no sound. In his right hand, he held a long, thin dagger. The silver metal of the blade was painted with a thick, green liquid. I knew that smell instantly. It was the poison of the Death Flower. Just one small scratch from that blade would stop a werewolf's heart in seconds. "Die, traitor," the assassin whispered, his voice cold and sharp. He lunged forward, aiming the poisoned blade straight at my chest.

Luna’s gaze snapped toward him. A second later— Movement. Too fast for ordinary wolves. A black-clad figure burst from the trees straight toward them. Knife raised. Alexander caught the attacker mid-lunge by the throat. The impact cracked the surrounding earth. The assassin choked violently, boots kicking above the ground. And Luna saw it immediately. Silver tattoo behind the ear. Revenant. Her expression went cold. “Alive,” she ordered. Alexander’s fingers tightened anyway. The assassin’s neck creaked dangerously. “Alexander.” His eyes flicked toward her. Slowly— he loosened his grip enough for the man to breathe.

I watched her in silence as she confessed , my expression darkening with every word that left her lips, “I am an assassin of the shadow realm, she sent me to kill her” “She?” “Yes, our master “ “What is her name?” “I don’t know her name, I have never seen her face before “ she responded. “What about this knife?” “It’s laced with witches spell and vampire venom” Vampire venom? What on earth is the witch-blight doing here? I know someone who makes this kind of lethal weapon, but she disappeared without a trace,years ago.

said Rave. The curtain at the side moved from side to side. A cold breeze rushed into the room from the window, which was opened. Rave moved his hand to his ear to remove an invisible dirt. "What should we do?" He asked again. I tore my gaze away from him. Moving it to one of the nude frames at the side. Black Axe was a very skilled assassin. He was the most wanted in the underworld. He has never missed any of his kills. He was very meticulous, and that was why we didn't know when he killed the henchmen and was also able to escape.

He looked like a god of war. ​The office door splintered inward with a crash. ​The assassin moved faster than any normal wolf. The killer wore a skin tight black leather suit, a dark hood completely covering his face except for his dead black eyes, and a vibrant green serpent tattoo curled dangerously around his pale neck. He held twin curved daggers in his hands. Thick, glowing green liquid dripped steadily from both sharp blades. ​The assassin lunged forward without making a single sound, and aimed both poisoned blades directly at Zachery's bare chest.

His hand went to his blade, and my pulse quickened. “I know,” I whispered, my own hand reaching for the hilt of my weapon. I felt the shift in the air, the unnatural stillness that had descended around them. It was too quiet, too perfect. Something was watching them, waiting. And then, from the darkness, the assassin’s emerged, a shadow against the storm. Their movements were swift and sure, their faces hidden beneath the hood of a cloak. They were dressed in black, their posture predatory, and in their hands, the blade shimmered cold and deadly.