Kill La Kill Novels & Stories

Kara clenched her jaw, pulling me out of my memory. “You mean the illegal ventures?” I said. I couldn’t help but jab. A little smirk touched Killian’s face. “So this is payback?” he asked. “After getting Mila, dead or alive, you are going to kill me?” Killian asked nonchalantly. “Yes,” Kara hissed as Killian pressed the knife further into the joint. “You bastard!” she cried, growing paler by the second, breaking into a cold sweat. “I thought she was your slut, but turns out you’re the do—”

“Okay. Later today, when everyone’s here, we’ll be having a meeting about the acquisition of a hotel in Palermo. Ricci’s hotel. You can do your research about them so you know them if you dont” The name hit me like a blade sliding under the skin. Of course i know Ricci’s hotel. Carlos Ricci. The last man I killed about a week ago. My pen hovered over the notepad, and for the briefest second my hand stilled before I forced it back into motion, my expression carefully neutral. “Understood sir” I replied evenly, as though the name meant nothing, as though the memories of that night weren’t clawing at the edges of my composure.

Just sat there, staring at nothing. Finally, Killian found his feet. He crossed the room like a man walking through water and dropped to his knees beside Kael. His hands reached for Katherine—touching her face, her hair, checking for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there. When he realized she was truly gone, the sound that came out of him was primal. The cry of something wounded beyond healing. "Mom. it's over," Killian said through his tears. "The war is over. We won. So why—" His voice broke completely. "Why did she have to die? Why?"

"A Queen of ghosts and a King of dogs. Neither shall leave the Silent Dominion." "Funny," Killian rumbled, his golden Alpha runes glowing so brightly they began to singe the air. "I was just thinking your armor would make a decent trash can." Killian launched. He didn't shift, but his speed was post-human. He met the Knight’s obsidian claymore with his flaming broadsword in a collision that sent a shockwave through the gorge, momentarily reversing the flow of the waterfall. Sparks of solar fire and black soul-flame rained down like a deadly celebration.

He pulled a dagger from his jeans and shoved it straight through Kyle’s back and into his heart. Kyle stumbled forward, clutching his chest, and Beta Eric grabbed me from my seat before Kyle hit the floor. Guttural sounds escaped him before he finally went still. Luna Thorne and my brother immediately sprang to their feet. “You… you killed him!” Luna Thorne cried. “He deserved everything he got. I just needed to make sure he rejected Lara properly,” Alpha Kael replied evenly. “You killed my brother!” Luna Thorne shrieked, rushing to Kyle’s side.

I wasn't thinking like a woman anymore; I was thinking like a weapon. A soft knock at the heavy steel door made me draw the Glock. I didn't ask who it was. I could tell by the weight of the step. "Sienna." It was Killian. He didn't break the door down. He didn't come in with a blade. He stood on the other side, his voice strained and hollow. "I killed them, Sienna. The cleanup crew. Adrian’s men. They’re all decorating the pavement in Queens." I walked to the door but didn't open it. "And Adrian? And your brother?"

The lead outcast raised a massive, jagged obsidian greatsword, his cracked lips parting in a silent, bloodthirsty snarl as he lunged toward me. "They feed on the heat, Lyra!" Killian roared. Before the stone blade could connect, Killian bypassed their defense with a terrifying display of raw, physical Alpha strength. He tackled the lead outcast to the ground, his claymore cleaving through the creature's calcified neck in a shower of sparks and hot, thick grey blood. He didn't use fire; he used brute, bone-shattering force, his thick arms bulging as he slammed the creature's head into the glassy obsidian floor until the stone shattered.

"Here, I got this holy water from a reputable temple. Feed it to her, and she'll be healed immediately!" Watching her raise her hand to pour the "holy water" into Amy's mouth, my eyes widened. That bowl was the very thing that had killed my daughter in my previous life. Springing to my feet, I deliberately caught my slipper on the floor and crashed towards Mindy with all my might. "Ouch!" With a pained cry, Mindy lost hold of the bowl and it shattered against the floor with a loud crack, spraying the filthy liquid all over her pants.

I don't understand the words people say in anger. When I was seven, my foster mother complained that I ate too much and told me that if I didn't work, I wouldn't get to eat. I washed dishes for three days with a high fever. Only after I collapsed did I dare take half a moldy dinner roll. When I was twelve, my teacher told me I couldn't go home until I'd memorized the entire passage. The next morning, when the security guard forced open the classroom door, I was still standing in front of the empty desks, reciting the final paragraph. When I was sixteen, a doctor got angry when I refused treatment and snapped that if I didn't want to live, I should never take medicine again. From then on,

Jesse kept mum, his lips pressed into a thin line as he thought and contemplated hard. "What if she shows up on you again? Are you like- still going to see her?" She pried, asking him an honest question. The real question. He looked up at Charlie, having struck a realization. K was karma, K was danger, K was seduction personified. He was willing to risk it all.