Novel & Cerita Murder

My phone rang, but I ignored it and went in. Upon seeing me, Henry hung up and handed a case closure form to me. “I’ve found the murderer. Sign this.” I skimmed through the contents and felt my heart twist in pain. In the morning, Henry had promised to help me take revenge, but at this very moment, he was protecting the murderer and had just found a scapegoat to deceive me. “You’re saying that a terminal-stage cancer patient killed my father as a middle finger to society. Do you really think I’d believe that?”

"The document is for you. Sign it, and I'll spare your life. If you refuse, you'll both go over the edge." Conner remained on his knees, water still dripping all over his body. Floyd continued, "The rules are simple. Both of you will cross at the same time. The walkway is only about a foot wide, and it can't fit two people side by side. Whoever reaches the end first gets what they need. As for the other one…" He didn't finish his sentence, but his chilling murderous intent said it all. The moment Anisa heard "hemostatic medicine", a frantic will to survive flared in her gaze. She actually managed to pull herself up and drag her bleeding body toward the glass w

I asked him to check whether the print matched the victim’s. I picked up the half-burned family photo. Something felt off, but I could not explain it. I was confused. What kind of hatred would make someone kill his own mother? Thinking of this, I tried again. I set the mirror by the window and checked the view outside. No normal person could kill someone and hold a mirror at the same time. Not without a third hand. Unless, of course, he used the victim’s trust and tricked the victim into helping him.

"As long as you don't come at me and bother me, I'll even die for it." I guess I was thirsty for my life. Certainly. I wanted to die, and for a murderer like him it would be okay to kill me. The moment he committed the murder is still fresh in my mind. Even as he committed the murder, his breathing was regular, he didn't even feel the slightest bit of excitement. However, I read in an article that even the most professional killers always have a small indication of a little bit of excitement. For example, tingling fingers. For Edim Demiray, calling him a murderer wa

Mom's expression turned cold as she read the report, “Female victim, identity unknown, approximately 25 years old. The crime scene is an abandoned building in the suburbs. Multiple fatal injuries. The cause of death was internal organ corrosion from sulfuric acid, leading to shock from extreme pain. Genital mutilation and sexual assault confirmed. Head severed from the body… This child died far too tragically.” Officer Zane noticed her grim expression and asked, “From a criminal psychology perspective, what stands out as the key breakthrough in this case?” Mom bit her lip. “We need to determine whether this was a revenge killing or a crime of passion. Sexual motives can’t be ruled out. But g

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE VALENTINA’s POV However, I don't operate in that manner. Stealing is punishable by death, murder is punishable by death, and reporting is punishable by, you guessed it, death. I grinned wickedly. I turned away from the man, laughing bitterly. "I would murder you even if you simply annoyed the hell out of me," I said.

Delilah asked, batting her lashes innocently. “Good, now you’re playing morality police. You do know that I could easily apprehend you for murder? Even if it’s of bad people, it’s still murder, because you killed at least three on purpose. You had the intent, so it was not self defense.” Mr Archibald almost looked menacing. “I killed blood sucking demons! What is wrong with that?” Delilah waved her hands all around. “Excuse me all over the place, mister?”

My guards were standing behind each of the blindfolded men as I looked over to them. Then I walked over to them. "This man is a murderer," I announced while pointing at the first one. I chuckled at the irony. I may be murderer too but I had never taken an innocent life. "He shot and killed a family of five while they slept in their beds. Two of them were just little children." I pointed at the next man. "This man did a hit and run. He killed a pregnant woman and her four year old son, leaving them to die," I said coldly.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed ins

she insisted, her voice breaking, “Derek has a lot of issues, and he’s not as calm as Zach was, but he would never hurt someone like that.” Her defense of him was fierce, almost too fierce. I let her words linger in the air, my thoughts running deeper. Because I knew better. For a murder to happen, four things had to align—intent, motive, means, and opportunity. We already had the means: poison, strangulation, and apparently the wounds on his stomach that were committed from the report. A possible motive was sitting right in front of us. And intent… Well, love and betrayal have always been the sharpest blades.