Killer Fiction Novels & Stories

The only people who didn’t know it were the ones busy being actually devastated—my mother, folded into herself like something broken, and my father, his hand pressed flat against his chest as if he could hold his own heart in place. I watched them and felt something I didn’t have a name for. Not quite grief. Not quite rage. Something in between, something with teeth. Then there was Antonio. Antonio, who killed me. Antonio, letting people wrap their arms around him. Antonio, accepting condolences with the practiced ease of a man who had rehearsed this moment and found it suited him. You are a damn liar, I thought, standing close enough that I could have reached out and touched his face. And I

Karma's POV I arrived home sometime around midnight. The house was completely dark. I stood outside for a moment after paying the cab driver, staring at the windows of the house. I had deliberately taken a cab instead of calling Noah. And I refused the ride offer that Helena offered me, the last thing I needed was for Noah to see Roland dropping me off again and start asking questions I couldn't answer. Tonight had already been complicated enough. Daniel Cross was dead. The surgery had gone exactly as Helena had predicted.

The years he'd built himself into a weapon. He told her about his first job. A man in a warehouse. The organization said he's a trader who had sold them bad information—people had died because of him. Vincent was fourteen. He didn't check if it was true. He wasn't supposed to. The man looked at him and said, "You're just a kid. Go home." That was worse than a fight. He pulled the trigger anyway. Then he went to a motel and sat on the floor of the shower until the water ran cold. He didn't cry. He just sat there trembling, watching the water go from pink to clear. He told himself the man would have killed someone else. She felt something tighten in her chest. Not fear. Not disgust. Something

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

POV: Neoma Killing with a knife is messy. It’s warm. Wet. Intimate. You feel the muscle seize under your fingers. The frantic, staccato beat of a heart fighting to stay beating. You smell the copper and the bowels letting go. It stays with you. Sticky. Undeniable. Killing with the Void was horrifyingly clean. One second, the Rogue was a snarling, three-hundred-pound beast pinning me to the dirt. Hot breath. Spittle.

Gareth read on. "The bitter coldness of the Everfrost Plains made my wounds ache in agony. These were the result of the Heartlock Curse Jillian had used on me. They ensured that I was tormented with a pain worse than death. "At the time, she used this to blackmail me and forced me to sell my body at a nightclub. If I dared to resist, she would chant the spell to inflict me with unbearable pain. "I couldn't remember how many times I'd been violated. Some of them were even decades older than me. All of them disgusted me.

My hands trembled not with fear, but with anticipation. I took up the remote and switched on the TV. Morning news blaring, the usual aaaa and scandals were displayed on the screen until the tone of the anchor shifted to announce something more serious. "Two bodies have been found early today near the docks in a sensational case of murder. Police are investigating the possibility that these killings may be linked to the infamous 'Red Reaper' serial killer who leaves lipstick marks on the faces of the victims. The brutality of the crime would usually suggest a man but the lipstick mark has led us to believe the suspect is a woman. It has also been discovered that her victims are criminals that

But two years ago, I discovered the truth. The truck that killed my parents belonged to the Callaghan family's company. And it was no accident—it was a deliberate act under Florence's command.

The pack wolves kept up their stares and whispers only this time it was mixed in with questions and a general wariness at her abilities. Andrea never fought with Beta Andrew again after that day, not even when he approached her and requested a fight a week after their first and only encounter. During that time, she had heard enough whispers to understand where his resentment steamed from and she was angry that she had never considered it before. Andrea killed the Beta and Alpha of the Stark pack; their children took over those roles. Beta Andrew had lost his parents because of her and she couldn’t help but feel disgusted in herself for antagonising him knowing how he felt. The rage and anger

Archie lay still with unsteady breathe and violent heartbeat. The killer grabbed the silver knife in his hands and raised it. Archie’s eyes grew bigger seeing the knife now above in the air. In the moment of fling the knife was stabbed in Archie’s chest where his heart was supposed to be. But the killer was not satisfied with one stab so he pulled out the knife back and stabbed again and again and again until he was satisfied. "Its not over Archie Hamilton. Not Yet." The killer said in angered tone. Seeing the light of life now completely gone from Archie’s eyes the killer was now more than satisfied. He got off Archie’s stomach and sat beside him on his feet.