Is Jeff The Killer A Real Person Novels & Stories

He hates her so much. He wants her to pay, but why kill her when he can play the long game? He is the predator, and she's the prey. Or, so he thought. * Damian meticulously leads a double life— an affluent billionaire on the outside and a well-aged lycan on the inside. He has been in concealment since the treacherous murder of his Luna years ago. Damian remains haunted by the depth of the betrayal. His pent-up rage is reignited when Ishtar comes along, an ordinary human who bears the face of the traitor who murdered his mate. A doppelganger of the lycan who orchestrated the ruin of his pack in the past. Not only is he surprised by Ishtar's audacity, but his inactive wolf rages for the first time in a long while, claiming she is the answer. The little human crashes down his high walls, torturing him with memories of the past. Just as he suspects, Ishtar is connected to his past and is the key to relieving him of the excruciating weight he bears. There's a tinge of passion beneath the hard-surfaced hate, and it intensifies the more he tries to quench the fire. # Ishtar has spent years of her life on the street, being a petty thief, since she left the orphanage at eighteen. Everything changes when she bumps into Damian and assaults him. She falls into his world without being aware of his end game and identity. She is the old soul's plaything and his last chance at redemption. Her assumptions about herself become a sham when she's open to the world of supernaturals. Humans are not built to last, but there's more to this one. What happens when Ishtar isn't the only doppelganger around? Who stops the past from burning into existence again?

I quit and dipped. City threw a parade. Only Jenna Blake—my oh-so-gifted junior who claimed she could "see through killers' eyes"—lost it. At her celebration banquet, she went full drama queen: "I owe everything to Kate Mercer. Please, bring her back!" I laughed. Cold. Not happening. Last time around, I was the hotshot detective. But every clue I found? She dropped it first like she read my mind. People started saying I was washed. So I went all in—three months, no sleep, cracked a massive trafficking ring. Led the raid myself. She beat me there. Again. Place was cleaned out. Boom. She's the city's golden girl. I'm the clown with no game. Pressure got ugly. My head snapped. I died chasing the last scumbag. Then—bam. I woke up. Same day. Raid morning. Round two.

In her past life, she was a ruthless assassin who met a death so brutal she didn't even get a grave to rest in. But one fateful day, she's reborn-plunged back into her 15-year-old self, and blessed with an otherworldly power space by chance. Now, she's out for vengeance: tormenting her scum of a parents, taking down her spoiled brat of a sister, and slapping those ridiculous relatives hard enough to make their faces burn. She's a martial arts prodigy with a breathtaking, ethereal beauty. And let's get one thing straight-whoever said beauty and brains can't coexist clearly never met her.

Years ago, I, Ella Marin, became the wife of Andrew Lorenzo, the underboss of the Lorenzo family. Sadly, my last three years were spent in prison after I caused a fatal car accident. I heard plenty of “good news” about my husband while I did my time. Andrew had officially taken over the Lorenzo family once the Don had stepped down. He then spent a fortune on a woman called Rose Gunfire and was rumored to have had a one-night stand with a rival. He was also seen acting intimately with Sophia, the Principessa of the Rossi family, and private photos of them kept appearing online. When the underboss came to warn me about Andrew, I remained calm. “The Don says that as long as you don’t cry or make a scene, you’ll still have a place in the Lorenzo family after your release.” I replied quietly, “So he has women on the side. I can handle that.” Three days before that, the church’s hospital had called to tell me that my mother was terminally ill. Since the Lorenzo family could help find a kidney donor, I agreed to a marriage in name only. All for my mother’s sake.

I didn’t marry him for love. I married him to pay my father’s debt. To save my brother’s life. To survive. Lucien Draven is a billionaire, a killer, and the man who made my father disappear. Or so I believed. Now, I wear his ring. Sleep under his roof. Live as his wife with no rights, no freedom, and one rule: *Never ask about the night my father died* But secrets don’t stay buried. And when I dig too deep, I find something that changes everything. Maybe Lucien didn’t kill my father. Maybe the real killer is closer than I think. And maybe… the devil I married is the only one who ever truly wanted to protect me.

I was ready to leave the Vampire Academy's main campus with Liam, my childhood sweetheart. All because he told me he was being bullied. He was the unrecognized bastard of the Vance clan. Born with a fraction of the power we pure-bloods commanded. So I promised him. I would go with him to Duskfall Academy. A campus that didn't care about bloodlines or power. A place where he could finally belong. But the night before we were supposed to seal the transfer scrolls with our blood signets, he betrayed me. I heard his friend's sneering voice. "You drank beast blood and faked the whole abuse act just to dump Isabella Thorne? Damn, Liam. That's cold-blooded." Liam just shrugged. "I'm sick of her pure-blood, high-and-mighty attitude. And this is cleaner than having her clinging to me forever." My world shattered. I turned and walked away. On the ancient transfer scroll, I took my dagger and slashed through the name of Duskfall Academy. Then I wrote the name my family always intended for me: Crimson Fortress Academy, in the Evernight. It seemed everyone had forgotten. Even as fated blood-bond mates, I, Isabella Thorne, am the sole pure-blood heir to the Thorne clan. Once I sever our ties, he can crawl back to me on his knees, and I wouldn't let him have a single drop of my blood. He'll be nothing.

My younger brother, Luke, committed suicide after being falsely accused of plagiarizing Layla's brother's music. My own life was a living hell. I was a respected music critic, but now I was the sister of "the plagiarist." My reputation was in tatters. My colleagues whispered behind my back, and my articles were dismissed as the ramblings of a biased, grieving relative. The one person who had always stood by me was my husband, Julian, a successful music producer. We had been together since college, and he was my rock, my refuge in the storm. I thought he would believe me. But, he didn't. But the real betrayal came the evening, just another day of being ridiculed online, I came home to find Julian on the phone. His voice was low and urgent, laced with a coldness I had never heard before. "The case is closed, Layla. It’s over," he said. "The evidence has been submitted. No one will ever know that it was your brother who plagiarized Luke's music."

After fifteen years away, I was finally brought back to the DeLuca family. I thought I was returning to my real home. Instead, I walked into a house where the adopted daughter wanted me dead, my father treated me like a burden, and my brothers would rather watch me bleed than make her cry. On my first day back, she set dogs on me. That night, I was dragged to the top of the observatory and forced to apologize to her. When I fell from the tower covered in blood, they still called me a liar. Because in the DeLuca family, I may have been the real daughter by blood— but she was the daughter they loved. She thought she could bully me, poison me, and freeze me to death without consequence. She was wrong. Because the night I nearly died, my mother finally chose me—and turned a gun on the whole DeLuca family.

Two years ago, she was convicted of deliberately injuring the woman he loved. To him, her crime was unforgivable. He had her found guilty and was thrown into prison, destroying not only her leg but also every shred of her pride. Now, two years later, she believes she has finally clawed her way out of hell. She swears never to cross paths with him again, never to let their life interact again. But some devils never let go. And the man who once ruined her… is the very one who refuses to release her.

In my previous life, my sister thought that since my husband and I had high-paying jobs, she could swap her son with my child without anyone noticing. But twenty-five years later, the tables turned. My son had grown into a street thug, while her son—raised under my care—rose smoothly through life. Young as he was, he had already become a CEO. He was dutiful, bought me a villa, and even sent me traveling around the world. My sister barged into his company, waving a DNA test report, kicking up a scene, only to be thrown out by security. "Mr. Kieran said that even if you are his biological mother, you never gave him a single day of care," they told her. "So he refuses to acknowledge you." Breaking down completely, she drove her car into me and ended my life. When I opened my eyes again, we had returned to the very day she switched our babies. This time, my sister clutched her own child tightly, a wild, triumphant grin on her face. "From now on, you can be the mother of a street thug," she sneered. "The villa and all those riches—they're mine!"