Kill Or Be Killed Novels & Stories

“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.

Kill! Kill! Kill! There’s nothing I can’t do now. All I can think of is causing him pain, as much pain as I can possibly give. It’s at this point that I hope for more that I know he’s close. There’s only so much a body can take before it starts to fall apart. It hasn’t bled enough, it hasn’t cried enough, it hasn’t despaired enough. I lean down as tears leak from his eyes. The small weakness is enough to make me smile.

I ran my hands down my face, blinking a few times, “I killed him. I fucking killed him.” Kai furrowed his eyes in confusion, “Who?” “Fuck, Kai, I killed him.” I continued to pace the room, mumbling incoherently that I’d just killed him over and over. Kai walked over, stopping my pacing, and gripping my shoulders roughly, “Wyatt, who did you kill?” he growled. “Abe. I killed fucking Abe.” His eyes grew wide, “We were keeping tabs on him. Why did you do that?”

Zane said in a possessive manner Zane loved Elena in a possessive way, he would kill Elena in a snap of the fingers rather than leave her Elena was surprised to know that Zane waited for you because she always saw him as a heatless bastard “but I don’t want you,” Elena said being a bold woman, Zane maintains a gap between them and looked at her up and down “you don’t want me that means you don’t want your mate,” Zane asked her in doubt and Elena laughed

I would never be able to forget how Amy's small hands clawed desperately for breath as she turned purple. Nor would I ever be able to forget how Sam clamped a hand over my mouth when I tried to call the police, nor how he told me, "We can have another child, so don't kill my mother." I would never forget how they worked together with those charlatans they called exorcists, and how I was struck with a "holy scepter" until I died. Hatred surged through my chest like a tidal wave, and for a split second, I wanted nothing more than to storm into the kitchen, grab a knife, and butcher that venomous old hag where she stood.

"That's just fucking crazy! I'm not a killer!" "I know you're not, Kian. But this is the Reaper we're talking about. I don't think you have a choice. It's kill or be killed." Throttle's words hit me harder than a knockout. *~*~* "It's kill or be killed." Throttle's deadly warning played on a loop all night long inside my head. As I rolled to face the opposite side of the bed, the mattress creaked like an old rickety chair swing. The sunlight had only just started to seep through the curtains, a daunting sign that it was time for me to get up.

Syneverse Entertainment was too eager to protect him—their top-contributing model. Now, only one step remained in the initiation process: killing. Beckett needed to kill three people to prove his loyalty, and with his fear of blood, it was never easy. The last time he killed Tristan sent shivers down his spine, and it was the same now. "Shit. Shit," Beckett cursed repeatedly, sweating profusely. His breathing was heavy, and his entire body was trembling. He had completed two kills, and one more was left. The founders chose who he would kill in Agrianthropos, and it wasn't too difficult for him. He wasn't too attached to them.

Hutton pressed on. "I am not interested in killing you. I am killing your mate in front of you instead, so you will feel the intense pain of seeing your loved one die!" I fumed, and he sprang from the ground like he was stung, rushing to Kayla and spreading his arms, using his body as a shield over her.

Which would be my consideration. To let it live, or to kill it.

She would secretly buy us snacks or give us pocket money. Usually, when my parents were busy with work, Martha would cook for us. Not long ago, she was talking about making roast chicken for me and Ivy. Yet, in a matter of days, everything changed. Ivy killed herself, and Martha jumped, too. David started drinking heavily, and Linda became strange. I felt my world spin. Everything I knew collapsed. Through my exhaustion, I couldn't stop wondering what Ivy's last words were.