Kill Shot Book Novels & Stories

Since I had distributed everyone's admission tickets myself, I knew exactly where their exam rooms were. As I ran, I planned how to shatter their storyline. Firstly, it was a sweet romance novel. The female lead, Rachel Sharp, was supposed to be a naive yet brilliant top student. The male lead, Timothy Handler, was the cold, domineering school tyrant. Their character settings defined the tone of the story, and were exactly what made readers ship them. The first step was to destroy their character settings. After settling my thoughts, I steadied myself. Then, without hesitation, I grabbed a fire extinguisher from the hallway cabinet and smashed it straight into the glass window of Timothy's e

“Silas has always been cruel. You just didn’t see him for who he was.” She shook her head violently. “No. He was supposed to be my perfect husband.” And then, before I could react, her hand shot from behind her back and clamped around my throat. “If killing you once wasn’t enough, then I’ll do it again,” she hissed. “No—!” My fingers clawed at her steel grip as the air thinned, each gasp harder to catch.

I didn’t even know how I left. But the moment I heard the door slam behind me, I regretted it. I didn’t want to leave the home Clara and I shared. That was our home. How could I just walk away? As I raised my hand to knock on the door again, a voice suddenly echoed in my head. "Caleb, it was me. I killed Clara. "The wind was strong that night, the rain was heavy, and I lured her to the beach to make a wish. Then I pushed her head into the water.

I would kill them when I found out who had ordered the hit. We knew who had shot her, it was the Irish Boys, but what I didn’t know was who had ordered the hit. We had no fight with the Irish Boys and they would likely be horrified when they found out who they shot. Finn had gone to school with us, he wouldn’t be happy to have been a pawn in some greater scheme. When I found out who ordered the hit, it was game on. There wasn’t a slow enough death that could bring the satisfaction that I needed.

’ Billy spoke quickly even before I could finish my sentence. ‘Yes I didn’t use it. I used their own knives, on both of them.’ ‘Okay, tell me about the part where you killed Sharon.’

Remember two souls were meant to die in our previous encounter now they would and you know who they are. She has to be joking, not Nick and Kate, those were the two people who meant the world to me, I would rather not have them lose their lives. I pleaded with her but she kept laughing, her evil laughter filled the whole room. Then I suddenly woke up, it was a dream all along but the nightmares were real, I had to do something because I'd been wondering who the two victims were. I picked up my phone and texted Nick and Kate telling them I had something important to discuss. We picked a nearby coffee shop for our meeting.

Several minutes pass, much more time than it took for Clarky Boy to make up his mind, before Duke responds, “alright. but just so ya know, i’ll be carryin’, just in case you turn out to be a dude or somethin’.” Fucking rednecks and their guns. I never fancied killing with guns. Being a P.S.K. I would often have to concede and kill with a gun if the killer I was profiling would do so, but to me there is no kill greater than the knife. Plunging a blade into the soft, moist flesh of a man—or woman, if need be—I tell ya, there’s nothing more satisfying in all the world. But Nanetta Dieterle is not Sarah Killian. Based on the profile I have created for Nanetta so far, I have to admit she would pr

Everything you thought you knew about vampires is a lie. Ok, not really. Azrin might have been acting a bit overdramatic, but still, some of the stuff in human fiction was just wild. Rapidly the Chestnut-haired male flipped through the tattered remains of a human novel. Mentions of garlic, mirrors, and metal stakes to the heart, flittered across his viridian eyes. How they came up with some of this was absolutely fascinating. Scribbling down illegible notes to anyone but himself- scratch that. To anyone but himself and one other, Azrin began reaching for the next volume in the series when a soft click and the shuffling of booted feet caught his attention.

Sam's eyes flew wide open, his body arching violently before crashing back onto the bed. A mouthful of blood, mixed with unknown fragments of flesh, burst from between his lips, splattering across my hand. Clearly, the attack had some sort of internal damage. "Oh, look, he's coughing up blood! Does that mean that we've beaten the evil spirit out of him?" Lucas paled the moment he saw Sam barely breathing. They had come to scam money, not to kill someone.

The Shadows had come prepared, but they weren’t fucking ready for what I was about to do to them. Kirill was the first to take down one of the bastards, a clean shot to the temple. The body hit the ground with a sickening thud, blood pooling beneath him. But we didn’t have time to celebrate—three more men emerged from the shadows, firing blindly. I ducked, my instincts sharper than ever, narrowly avoiding the barrage of bullets as I drew my Glock from its holster. In one swift motion, I aimed and fired—two quick, precise shots. One bullet tore through a man’s kneecap, sending him crumpling to the floor, screaming.