Killing Them Softly Book Novels & Stories

"I'm going to show you the consequence of your own soft heart." It feels like the world is shaking, but it's only me. The tremors travel from my feet to my guts, ultimately settling in the center of my chest. My soft heart. I've heard that before. It was a warning uttered by the man I thought I was coming here to help. Sasha stood over Madison mere minutes after she tried to kill him. She got close. Too close. All because of me. It's happening again.

she said softly, daring me like I was some regular man and not the Don who ended lives without blinking. This woman was challenging me. Me. The same man who had killed without a second thought more times than I could count. Blood on my hands didn’t bother me. Pulling the trigger was as easy as breathing. But here I was, frozen, staring at her parted lips and those bold eyes that screamed she wanted me to break her.

"I am so sorry we fought. I hate it anytime we fight. It's not like I don't want to do anything. When I began reading the book, the first statement I saw frightened me." "What was it you saw?" Amelia asked. "It said, If an Alpha kills or hurts a person physically, it will continue that way for a very long time," Maxmillian said. "That doesn't make sense," Amelia said. "I know right?" That's why I'm waiting for Aleah to come to break things down for me. She should understand better what the book entails because I don't." Amelia Confessed. "I am so sorry I judged you. I had no idea what you were going through." Amelia apologized.

I had thought that I was going to die. “Keith is not as horrible as you think he is,” Cain started and I snorted. “You might not believe it but it’s true. He might come off as strict, but he does have a soft side,” Cain continued. But his words were itching my ears and I didn’t even want to hear them. “He killed someone right in front of me, Cain. There cannot be any soft side to him,” I countered. “But you will still have to,” Cain said. “Please, for my sake,” Cain pleaded deeply.

I lean in close, my voice shaking, desperate and raw. “Please,” I whisper urgently. “Don’t. Please don’t kill him. I don’t want anyone dying because of me.” For a second, I think he won’t listen. Then Hardin turns to me. His eyes soften, just barely. Enough to undo me. He bends and presses a slow kiss to my forehead, right there in the middle of the chaos, his hand cupping the back of my head possessively. “I won’t kill him,” he murmurs against my skin. “I’ll hurt him enough for him to remember. He’ll live.”

"I killed you softly. It was painless. You were tired of being alive anyway. You hated life. You hated that you could see the flowers from the closed space and blood everywhere around you. You kept throwing up because of the stench. You hated that man! You hated everybody! I gave you mercy! I helped you!" "Yes, you did," I said, holding on to her hand. She met my eyes, and her pupils had dilated so nuch, her breaths unstable. Her lips were parted, and I wasn't sure if she truly was scared of my mother coming for her or if she was trying to validate killing my mother. "You helped me so much." She nodded. "They... they would have killed you. So... so many of them were getting the injection. Th

Victor says automatically. "I wish I was," Harry continues. "We had him, and he talked to you, convinced you to let him go. You f*cked up cause you're soft. You're too soft to interrogate people. Imagine, instead of a violent killer, it's just some innocent college kid. You would let him walk over you to get to the door." "I'm not soft," Victor counters. The Cold Wolf laughs, a tear escaping from the corner of his eye. "You are soft. But that's not a bad thing. You have a mate, children, and friends who would die for you. You have everything that she ever wanted for you."

She melted at my kiss like she always did. “Ew!” Killian said from over my shoulder. “Kissing Mommy gross.” “Really?” I asked. “I love Mommy’s kisses. Almost as much as I love Mommy.” Penelope has a new romantasy series coming out under the pen name Penelope Barsetti. I was fifteen when the Death King came for us.

This was brutal. But then she remembered the altar. She remembered the cold knife. She hardened her heart. She stepped forward. She summoned the black mist to her fingertip. It sizzled like acid. She knelt beside the trembling scout. "Tell Damian," she whispered. "Tell him the Lamb has teeth." She pressed her finger to the scout's chest. He screamed. It wasn't fire. It was worse. It was absolute cold. She didn't carve a word. She carved a symbol.

her mom said with a big smile when she saw me walking up. "Thank you, Mrs. Bennett. I really appreciate your hospitality," I said, smiling politely. "You should learn a thing or two about hospitality," Evelyn said bitterly. "Eve! That was a rude comment," her mother warned her, but Evelyn glared at me like a fire-breathing dragon. I could tell she was plotting my death in her head, making it extra slow and painful. I took a bite of my corndog and then seductively licked the mustard off the tip because I knew it would bother her. She let out a frustrated groan and then stomped off somewhere else, so I laughed out loud.