Killers Of The Flower Moon Book Summary นิยาย & เรื่องราว

The appearance of the three cultivators simultaneously answered questions from the members of the Lotus Guard that had not been answered. “Blood Moon Killer?!” The members of the Lotus Guard simultaneously muttered trembling as they also recognized the three black-robed figures who had just arrived were members of the Blood Moon Killer assassins. In each of its operations, the Blood Moon Killer did not hesitate to kill the witnesses in order to sever information. The Blood Moon Killer is a dangerous syndicate that often troubles the world of cultivators on the Immortal Continent. "What should we do?" One of the Lotus Guard members asked in a trembling voice as the three Blood Moon Killer cul

Another brutal crime scene. The killer struck only on full moons, leaving behind the victims so deformed that even the most seasoned officers had to turn away, their faces pale and drawn. Five bodies in six months, all torn apart like they had been mauled by a wild animal. No fingerprints. No murder weapon. No witnesses. And now, the case was hers. Evelyn exhaled sharply, steeling herself before walking back inside. The precinct smelled of stale coffee and sweat, the air thick with frustration and fear. She could feel it in her bones—the weight of the city’s dread pressing down on her.

He asked as if he knows I'm dying gradually, first it was a shocking break up to the heart, and now there is an attack on my dear life, I guess it's a crime to be a daughter of a MAFIA LORD. Lorenzo kick-started the car and drove off, crushing the head of the mobster to the road with no remorse. He never looked back, but I did, and when I did, I saw the shooter's head crushed to the same level as the road itself, with his brain out of the skull.

"Are you... Are you gonna kill him?" He stared at her. Of course, he would kill that man. He must kill him. It's either him or his people. Mafia spies are one of the most dangerous people in the underground world. Once they find your location, your weakness, and important information, then it's over. Anytime soon, someone will try to destroy you and someone will come and kill you. But for some reason, he doesn't have the heart to tell her. She seems very concerned about that stranger of a man. She would definitely get hurt if he kills him.

Bobby DeLuca of the Italian Mafia was sitting at his cluttered desk vigorously finishing up the final paperwork so his grumpy old man could see he was capable of becoming the Alpha of the Mafia. His job was a feisty one, but he made sure every ounce of evidence burned alongside the bodies. Bobby was a ruthless killer; he has no remorse for those that defied the Mafia. “Bobby, your Father Vincent is looking for you.” Mico the right hand of Bobby said coming into his office. He knew Bobby was tired and didn’t want to be disturbed but when Vincent calls, you answer the call or be killed.

The tyres screeched against the rain-soaked road before the car violently slammed into a tree. CRASH! Glass exploded everywhere. Claire instinctively covered her face as countless shards flew across the cabin. Silence. An eerie, suffocating silence. Her trembling gaze immediately darted to Noah. His head had fallen against the steering wheel. Fresh blood trickled from beneath the bandage wrapped around his forehead. "No..." She grabbed his collar. "Noah... Noah!" She shook him desperately. "Wake up... please..." Nothing. Then... A car door slammed shut. There, in front of her, stepped out a man from the same car, which was speeding towards them. She stared at him in fear as a lightning strea

After getting approval from his superiors and the family, the FBI brought in New York's top criminal psychologist. The room was cleared, leaving only me and Miller behind the one-way glass. Dr. Hoffman's voice was deep and magnetic, like an ancient incantation. Enzo's breathing evened out, his eyes unfocused. He answered the first few basic questions smoothly, his expression growing peaceful. Until Dr. Hoffman softly asked the crucial question. "Enzo, take a deep breath. Tell me, who tried to kill you that night?" "Was it... someone working for Victoria Corleone?"

"The issue is you decided what these wolves would know, and when. You didn’t ask me. And I spent all morning dealing with people who do exactly that, my uncle, the twelve. All of them moving pieces behind my back. I'm tired of being the last one in the room to know what’s happening, especially when it’s in my name." Calla met my eyes. Didn’t look away, which I sort of respected, and hated at the same time. "Fair," she said. "Why were you documenting?" Rhydian asked. He hadn’t spoken in a while, so the question pulled all eyes his way. "Who sent you?" She appraised him carefully. “Nobody sent me. I work for myself. I have for twenty years.” "Doing what?" "Digging up what the network buried. M

“I’d get bored. After a month, I’d probably just go for it.” “Which is exactly why so many killers get sloppy,” he says, leaning closer, his voice taking on a low, almost seductive tone. “You watch for a couple of weeks, maybe you know their routine—but what about that one day a month when they do something different? What if they have a family outing, or a regular date night on the first Saturday of the month? Watching for a week or two leaves too much to chance. You’ve got to know every detail, no surprises.” His logic is disturbingly sound. To me, a killer just finds a victim, strikes, and moves on. But Lucas? He’s a hunter, carefully laying his trap, savoring the control he has before th