J The Killer Novels & Stories

“Now that we are putting that incident behind us and moving on with our friendship. Do you promise not to make such a move again?” “I do!” He responded sharply. “But concerning my feelings for you, I think it’s going to take some time to bury it.” I didn’t say anything. I just stayed silent and Jace must have noticed how uncomfortable I looked because he spoke up. “So about analyzing the issue?” He cleared his throat. “Yeah about that!” I said avoiding his eyes. “So what have you observed so far?” “The only thing I have observed is that the killing has been a consistent pattern only the councilmen are being killed. What battles me in all this is that the killer always leaves an item like he

You can never be too careful. "I'm Erik," he says. I stare at him blankly. I don't know an Erik. "Erik Cope," he says. The name still isn't ringing any bells. Is Geni trying to set me up? He clears his throat and tries a third time. "I think you have my kid." The small smile I had on my face drops, and my knees suddenly feel weak. "What?" I croak. "You're Quincy, right?" he asks. "Sarah's sister?" All I can do is nod. "Then you definitely have my kid."

Thane explained. ‘That explains why he didn't cover his face when he took Aria.’ Alessa thought. “Who are you?” Alessa asked. He looked up at her and slowly laughed. “Alessa. The killer who took out thirty men in two minutes without a scratch, she pulls the trigger faster than anyone. Smart, pretty.” “Sexy,” he added and laughed out loud. He doesn't look Russian, Mexican, or Italian, he was an American which confused her more. No American has ever been after her.

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

Jasira swallowed not expecting that statement from her. So she was supposed to be in the mafia alongside her father but death spoilt everything. She fell back to the chair with a deep breath, it was too much for her to handle, she was expecting this but then... "The name of the killer is AJ." "AJ! AJ as in what?" She almost yelled but fisted her palms and took a deep breath. "Mom, this is not going to help me." Jenny smirked, which made Jasira's mouth drop, she had never seen her mother do that. "And that is where he came in." She grabbed a brown folder by her side that Jasira never noticed was there.

None of them had gotten it right. The real thing standing in my doorway, catching the light from my hall lamp was something else entirely. It was not costume. It was not theater. It was a specific, intentional, centuries-old object, and it was being worn by a man who had chosen it the way a man chooses a signature. The Verdict Killer was standing in my living room. I want to be precise about what that meant. Because if you live outside this city, or if you don’t read the tabloids, or if you don’t listen to the podcasts — you might think he was just one more name on one more news cycle.

He shrugged his shoulders. “Are you back to say just a few words now? I like the talkative Wesley but this is the Wesley we knew. The beast-like isn’t that how you became so wealthy only after five years.” “Tell me what I should know.” He growled at him. Dust felt the shivers where he was. He was already aware of who the killer was since it was announced that Jacky was a suspect and was out on a run. He spun the chair around and stared at Mio that has his eyes on him ever since he started the call.

I nod, snapping my gaze towards her, “Yes, I do! You’re just repeating what I already know. Stay clear of A-Jun… I get it. I’d rather sit on a cactus than share the same air with him… again.” “Good,” Jane says. Getting up from the bed, she walks over to a chair, sitting facing me with her legs crossed. Second on the list is Kaito.” “Kaito?” I ask. “Who the fuck is Kaito?” “He is a Japanese prisoner; he committed massacre, terrorism, and a lot of atrocities,” Jane announces. “That’s a lot of crime.” I chip in.

Her eyes clung to his, her heart aching from the truth she had uncovered, the chaos of everything they’d shared. Lucas shifted uneasily. He knew this look. He had seen Jerald like this before—only this wasn’t Jerald. This was Manorh De Luca. The ghost. The killer. The nightmare in a tailored suit. The one that didn't hesitate to pull the trigger on whoever the good damn was messaging with his person. Anita turned slowly, her shoulder bleeding. “Master,” she whimpered. Jerald didn’t answer with words. He responded with another shot—clean, sharp—straight through her hand. His eyes didn’t waver from Jasmine, not even for a second, as he finally stopped in front of her.

That answer settled heavily inside the office. The captain looked away first. Because suddenly— Even he realized how deep this situation truly went. — Meanwhile, Charlotte sat inside her office staring silently at the television coverage. Javier Ortega. Cartel killer. International trafficking. Every part of the story felt manufactured. Forced. Clean. Too clean. But what disturbed her most— Was Jace’s confession. He admitted it. So why create another killer? Unless— Richard Norman was cleaning the entire mess permanently. Charlotte muted the television again slowly.