Novel & Cerita Moonflower Murders

“Zoe, your husband is a serial killer.” I said I knew. Flora went through the chain of evidence with me. Gambling. Loan sharks. Embezzlement. Harold’s death. Lena’s murder. The forged mortgage. Each piece backed by evidence. “But the key is still Lena’s case.”

I watch as she squints, probably trying to remember her own headline. “They dug up those two murderer blokes from In Cold Blood,” I don’t want to tell her she’s won by kilometres just yet. “Why?” “Something about some murders in Florida,” So I just nod quietly, pretending to turn it over for a moment. I wonder how I managed to let that one slip through the cracks. I’ve only read the novel about a hundred times. “I suppose you win today.”

COOKIE'S POV I was so concerned about Pebbles. She hadn't been receiving our calls for the past few weeks. But we knew she had been struggling to grapple with the horror of the incident with Harrison. She had been through so much, I just hoped she would be OK. I should have known that it was Mobley doing the killings, especially after I saw the news broadcasts a few months back. The details were gnawing at me. When the anchor lady informed the viewers that a slew of black girls had been slaughtered during sex, I should have known it was Mobley. I got thrown off when the news reports said that a few were consensual sex. But most of the victims showed signs of struggle, which meant that they w

It clearly showed Marie walking along the crosswalk when she got hit by a car that ran the red light. The car was clearly speeding. After hitting Marie, the car merely screeched to a stop for a split second before rushing off again. The driver didn't even bother to get out of the car and check on the victim. This proved that Gigi's claims about it being a scam had been nothing but lies. She had slammed right into the innocent victim.

“No way you’re just some girl with a sad story. Where’s the one who melted steel in my hand? Where’s that creature?” My lips parted, but no words came. “I know she’s in there.” His breath brushed my ear, low and lethal. “So either you start talking, or I test how deep I can cut before you stop breathing.” The knife shifted, steel cold, the edge biting against my skin. “What exactly do you want to know?” He didn't reply. I tsked. I tried to push against him once more but that was useless. I let out a shaky breath. “The people who killed me name was my brother, named Marcus Vale. Damon Cross.”

“The… moonflower.” A low laugh rumbled from his chest, dark and cruel, though tinged with pain. He loosened his hold just enough for her to breathe easier, his other hand dragging down her stomach, reminding her how thoroughly he had claimed her. “Moonflower,” he repeated, savoring the word. “Rare and dangerous and can be found In Dylen's garden.” She tilted her head back, too drained to resist but too proud to look away. His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, wild and burning with both lust and fury.

He looked… relieved. His hand tightened on the dagger. He twisted. The pain arrived like lightning. White. Blinding. Her knees buckled. His grip on her shoulder held her in place. “The Moon demands blood, Arielle,” he murmured at her ear. His tone was almost gentle. Almost. “And you are the perfect lamb.” Heat poured down her torso. Blood soaked the front of the dress. Red on white. No one screamed. No one rushed the altar. The guests watched. Still.

“In the recording, she was laughing. She said you’d helped evil thrive, and that you deserved the same fate as the rest; that you should never be able to recover for the rest of your life. “So, the real pumpkin-headed figure, the man over six-foot-three, was Chuck. “For money, Chuck had not only agreed to play along but had even gotten his own brother killed. Lily and Chuck have both been arrested.” Marcus looked at me, a quiet sense of relief in his eyes. “Sophie Sullivan, you’re free to go.” I stared at him, unable to find the words. Victoria let out a long breath beside me. The day I walked out of the detention center, the sunlight was blinding, almost painful.

He likes to refer to them a bottom feeders, vultures or the classic 'fucking freaks' depending on his mood. With all the media coverage that the case had garnered nation wide, he had hordes of people beating the doors down to see it. Everyone had wanted to see the infamous 'murder motel' where the crazy man and his deranged son had kidnapped all those women and then brutally murdered them. Everyone's favorite place to check out was the old well that had held all the bodies of the victims.