Killing Comparison Novels & Stories

Chapter 83 I remember my first kill. I thought he'd never die. There I was, holding tightly onto his neck and squeezing for dear life, my own life flashing before my face if I so much as removed a finger from his neck. It was gruesome. Many people think there's no difference between killing someone with an object and doing it with your bare hands. There's a grave difference, I tell you. With an object, it's impersonal and it feels like you're on the other side looking in on someone else doing it but using your hands - now - that's fucking personal.

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.

Mira could see it from the look on her face that she looked at me sharply "Miss? From the start, your environment and Mr. Noah's environment have been different. The harsh life that a person lives is also different. Mr. Noah had to go through it all to get on with life. Are you sure that the term killing referred to as Mr. Noah is killing someone directly with Mr. Noah's own hands? No miss. It's not like the movie scene you imagine." Mira smiled slightly "What do you mean?" I asked curiously

"If you're going to compare me to an animal Cam, I'd much rather be a cheetah or a lioness. Maybe a tigress. You know, something that rips wolves like the ones in front of me limb from limb." A killer, unnatural smile took her lips and the dark abyss of death the rest of her face as she walked up to them. Two of the three men took two steps back each. Only Grayson stood his ground. Keira put herself between Aaron and Kendall and grabbed Kendall's hand before she could retract it.

Two down. The last remaining wolf, who is the best fighter of the three, readies himself for another round. He doesn’t show any signs of lost confidence, even after I easily killed his two comrades. As a younger wolf, I envisioned myself growing up to be a ruthless warrior- killing for the enjoyment of being the stronger wolf. After engaging in my first battle and witnessing death, my thoughts changed. Killing became a necessity. The first life I took, it happened so quickly. I reacted on pure instinct; my training and strength led to victory over the other wolf. I remember seeing the wolf’s eyes fade, his bright green eyes becoming a dull in color. That is what stays with me. The slow dimmi

I admit, my heart crushing under its weight. He plants a second kiss, and it strangely eases my chest. I'm definitely not falling in love. Am I? "Ryat is a little quicker to kill, much like his father was compared to Don Regan." I know that story. He tosses a coin to pass judgment, and both sides might mean that the unfortunate offender dies. The only mercy is usually the difference in methods. But with Rex, It's absolutely believable that he was like that—probably still is.

This instantly cleared Dave mind , “ So she was planning to poison me “ , he whispers to himself . Life became a war for the wedded couple with each planning for another to die first. During dinner Dave cut off the electricity and claimed he didn’t pay for electricity and would pay tomorrow as it was already late . Dave had a plan , a good plan , a smart plan that would definitely not end with him dying first. He placed the final candle on the dinner table and admired his work. Romantic. Elegant. Deadly .

“Do you think I can coexist peacefully with someone like you?” “If we fight, it’s uncertain who will live or die. The outcome is unpredictable,” Cedric said. “How about this: since you think I’m not your match, kill me and put me in this coffin,” Kiran said, pointing at the massive black coffin with a fearless look. Cedric was taken aback but soon sneered. “Do you want to die?” “If I’m not your match, I’ll die anyway, won’t I?” Kiran replied with a smile.

They crash mid-air, a collision of hard muscle and bone, and fall to earth, grappling and snarling in a frenzy of fangs and claws. Killian’s claw slashes through my flank, slicing through the scar left by the feral that killed my sire, as I sink my fangs into his haunch, ripping through muddy fur and flesh. We plow through the field, tearing chunks from each other, rolling and fighting for dominance, but neither of us can hold position. He’s bigger, but not stronger. I’m quicker, but nothing slows him down.

No one could sense the smell but I could and it worried me. It was only a matter of a few seconds when Aaron and Adam killed the two smaller grey wolves with a simple pounce and bite to their necks. They laid on the ground as blood gushed out of their necks while their eyes remained opened. They died quickly, but the red one was still was left standing waiting to square off with both of them. He was un-phased by the killing of his comrades and stood their growling showing his canines dripping with saliva.