Kill Shot Book Novels & Stories

I stared at the phone, stunned. She actually hung up. "What are you doing?!" I looked up. The next second, Benny's hands locked around my throat, his bloodshot eyes glaring at me. "I hate liars. Die!"

“You won’t.” The first strike came in the form of awareness: Trevon’s crew appeared from the surrounding alleys, thinking they could intimidate her, thinking she’d be caught off guard. But she had anticipated this. Dee and Aire moved as one, fluid and precise, stepping back into the shadows, using cover, positioning themselves so that every move counted. Trevon’s men hesitated, realizing too late that the girl they thought they could scare was gone. In her place was someone sharp, strategic, lethal in her calm.

"The first victim, Luigi, was strangled with high-voltage wire, his tongue torn out. The family's signature punishment for a 'big mouth.'" "The second, Mario, was filled with seven gallons of cement and thrown into the Hudson. A standard 'swimming lesson.'" ... I recounted the confidential details of all ten deaths flawlessly, my voice unhurried and composed. I even knew details the FBI's own autopsy reports had missed. A young agent's coffee cup shattered on the floor. His voice trembled. "This is all classified. It's from the FBI files. There's no way you could know this!" I shrugged, my expression a mask of innocence.

Gun still smoking. Expression calm. Like he hadn’t just killed a man in the middle of a formal council meeting. "I don't really give a damn if you call her a murderer," Killian said, his voice steady and sharp like a blade. "You want to know the thing about people like us? We’ve all killed. Every single one of us. And the only reason we’re still breathing is because we’re damn good at it. If we weren’t, we’d be dead already. So spare me the moral high ground."

He slipped and was about to fall off the cliff. However, he grabbed my hand and begged me. “Don’t let go! I’m begging you. I don’t want to die!” I found that ridiculous. “Didn’t you want to kill me just now?” Of course, he would not admit that. He hurriedly shook his head. “No, dear. Don’t worry. I never wanted to kill you. I was just joking.” I watched him indifferently. “This is your last chance. Otherwise, I could always let you fall. No one will know if someone dies here, right?”

Their baby cried loudly, piercing the night. "AMBULANCE! QUICK! QUICK!" Edgar shouted to his team, his voice nearly desperate. And then, to the shooter: “And you! I fire you! Meet me at the base camp after you return!” Edgar’s voice trembled, full of burning anger. How could an amateur shooter infiltrate his security detail? With his remaining strength, Jonathan raised his trembling hand, touching Harley’s tear-streaked cheek. Their eyes met — full of pain, regret, and unspoken love.

No attack came. I opened my eyes, realizing that I could no longer hear any signs of the fight. Hunter was standing before me, staring at me with his mouth open. He was covered in blood—most likely not his—and completely naked. I was too panicked to care about his nudity. There was something else that devoured my attention… The man who tried to attack me was lying motionless on the corridor floor outside my cell. He had a large, still-smoking hole burned in his chest. He was dead. I killed him.

Now, child. Thirty seconds. Bodies were dropping all around her as people continued to buy her the time she needed, paying with their lives. "For Absconditus. For Warlanda. For a better tomorrow," Keira chanted to herself, moments before her cool trigger finger squeezed, releasing the bullet of her first kill from her gun.

Solomon would never hold back against a capable opponent who refused to work with him. “What’s wrong? Want me to stay?” Andrius remained unfazed and frivolous when he saw the hitmen. Solomon did not answer his question and announced, “Andrius Moonshade, let me introduce you to my hitmen.” “This is Knife, and he’s good with anything sharp. He has killed 99 people with the dagger he wields. You will be the hundredth. “This is Gunner, a legend in the hitman world. He never misses within a hundred meters.

Gunner was right. Although Big Ken was far away, through the high power scope on the sniper rifle, he could see the situation over here clearly. Within seconds of Yellow-Shirt taking out the bomb, Big Ken had already noticed it and kept a close eye on it. Just when Yellow-Shirt raised his hand ready to throw the bomb and decisively pulled the trigger, a high-speed rotating bullet with an initial speed of more than 1 km per second shot out and accurately hit Yellow-Shirt in the chest. The yellow shirt guy was driven backward by a huge impact and a wrist-thick bloody hole was carved out in his chest. The bullet did not remain in his body but passed right through and hit a companion's body behi