My Status As An Assassin Light Novel Novels & Stories

Assassins were trained never to have feelings or get attached to their targets, but this man here was way worse than an assassin. He was a beast. My hatred for him grew stronger. I suddenly lost my appetite and rudely dropped the cutlery. “Excuse me, I need to go somewhere,” I said as I stood up without hesitation and walked out of the booth, leaving him to enjoy his meal. I walked out of the restaurant and decided to ditch his guards, going through the back exit. I didn't want to get a cab, so I decided to walk around for some time, and that was how I ended up in an unknown neighborhood.

CONTENT WARNING The Assassin’s Portrait is a Dark Romance featuring heavy themes that are not for the faint of heart. This story is strictly for mature audiences (18+). THEMES: • PSEUDO-TABOO: A forbidden, obsessive step-sibling dynamic. • HARD EROTICA: Graphic sexual content, power play, and BDSM. • GRAPHIC VIOLENCE: Blood, gunplay, and dark criminal themes (Bratva). • MORALLY GRAY CHARACTERS: Obsessive, possessive, and dangerous behavior.

The dungeons stunk of damp stone, rust, and blood that had seeped too deep into the walls to be washed clean. Torches hissed along the narrow hall, their flames casting restless shadows. Serina descended the steps with Damien at her side, Cassian trailing behind like a silent sentinel. Each step seemed to press the air heavier against her chest. At the far end of the chamber, the assassin knelt bound in chains, his body bruised, his lip split, one eye swollen shut. And yet, when he lifted his head, his gaze was sharp burning with defiance, with hatred.

He would not be my ally. Xandro would do anything for the money. I dropped the cup in my hand and then stood up. “I am out of here.” He didn’t say anything and only leaned backward as he watched me walk away. Arriving at the door, my hand dropped on the knob and as I prepared to twist it open, his voice came up. “I received a job to kill your wife, Lyra Henderson.”

“You don’t blend in very well, you know. Giant shadow thing, blade hands. Not subtle.” The rogue turned. A girl stood on the rock—hooded, blades strapped to her back, one arm marked with celestial runes. Her smirk was all teeth. “Who are you?” the rogue asked, voice flat. “I could ask you the same,” she said, leaping down lightly. “But I already know. The assassin from the council. The one that disappears in records right when Valarieth fell. You’re a myth.” “Then walk away, little mortal,” the rogue replied, turning. “You’ve seen nothing.”

Argent’s man, Anarchy, opened the door and retreated to Argent’s office as soon as Violet and Lyria showed up. Anarchy is another gorgeous Assassin that recently transferred from the Canadian division. With his high cheekbones, deep merlot-colored hair, and intense eyes the color of the ocean at dawn, he’s quite a sight to see. We quickly found out that he’s not much of a talker. He’s more the tall, silent type, which was fine by me. We also discovered that he’s uncomfortable with female attention. I give both women a wan smile and take a sip of wine. The scarlet liquid sloshes gently across the rim, letting off a fruity scent.

I released a sigh of relief and settled on the driver's seat but then the car turned silent. "Can I ask you a question?" Leonardo broke the silence after a while. "Go ahead." I answered. "Why did you decide to become an assassin? I mean you have all your life right in front of you and you could have literally been anything else." "I didn't have the option to be anything else. I didn't even get to choose to become this, it was forced on me. He stayed silent like he was ushering me to continue with what I was saying.

“Someone reached into your mortal world. Someone dragged your dying soul through the veil and forced it into a vessel in Luminary.” Kael’s heart pounded so hard his body shook. “Stop it. Stop talking to her!” “Why?” the assassin whispered. “She deserves the truth.” Kael’s jaw clenched so hard his teeth ached. “She deserves peace.” “There is no peace for a chosen vessel,” the assassin said softly. “There never was.” Alessia shook her head. “I don’t believe you.” “You don’t want to believe me,” he corrected. “I don’t—I can’t!” she gasped.

I took the blade from him and buried the silver blade in his stomach, but then I felt the other assassins surrounding me. I knew what came next; I had played this game before, but this time I was the prey, not the predator, and I knew how the story usually ends for the prey, even if one is as dangerous as I am. Another tried to grab me. I quickly ripped one of his hands off me and swiftly somersaulted to the far end, another charged at me and then ripped off the head of the next assassin who charged at me, watching his lifeless body fall to the ground. I was surrounded, but I was not going to beg like a rat; instead, I would die like a soldier, taking as many as I can to the after life.