Novels About Assassins Novels & Stories

~~~ Opening my eyes to the lingering pain behind my head, I squinted my eyes open and then groaned gently. As the series of events of the past day till now rushed through my head, I closed my eyes shut again and then whimpered. My hands were tied together, and so were my legs. Again, I wondered where things had all gone wrong. Yesterday, I found out that my husband had killed my unborn baby just because he was together with my best friend. And today, I found my husband in the pool of his own blood. That was not all… someone was trying to kill me too because there was no way this was a proper police station.

I furrowed my brows at him. “I meant, good that he wasn’t your boyfriend…not that he was a fucking moron that got himself killed.” I tilted my head at him. He ran a hand through his hair. He looked nervous. “Please disregard what I just said.” I scoffed. “Yeah, sure.” “Good.” He let out a breath. “How many people have you taken out?” Most assassins didn’t keep count; after the first few years, they all blended together. But I knew the exact number of people I had taken out for the last decade. “Three hundred and fifty-seven.”

Alssandro Leone Romano James Mathews hung up and rounded his shoulder to get rid of the fatigue he now had. He is my Vice-President, henchman, undertaker, right-arm man. Despite his age and charisma, he was an ice-berg. A cruel callous bastard. Though he looked pristine and refined to the nines he had more blood on his hands than I did. We always had hired hands but this sadistic sicko liked to get his hands dirty. He took a pussy, disposed of it. He took a dime, impenitently.

I feigned a look of shock, “Do those exist?” “Hm, for those of means, you were too young to get into pack politics when-” She waved her hand as if the death of everyone I knew and loved was something minuscule, “But yes, Simone, there are assassins and far worse things out there.” I shuddered. “How will we know?” I whispered, looking at my glass. “I have no idea, and they don’t want to figure it out. They just want to go after everyone. Bloodshed, you know, men.”

Well, aside from pretty much all of humanity, Michael Bay for crimes against ‘80’s and ‘90’s pop culture, and Winona Ryder for being a brat. Ever since that run-in with Nick, I have been taking informal daily martial arts lessons from Mary Sue. One major difference between assassins and P.S.K.’s is assassins are fully trained in martial arts. I’d never really had an interest in martial arts before, but after getting my ass handed to me by Nick in Duluth, I reluctantly admitted it might be a worthwhile skill to take up, because even before he joined T.H.E.M. as an assassin he was already a deadly martial arts expert. I didn’t want to have to see Mary Sue anymore than absolutely necessary, but

I slam into one of them and kick the other in the head, then twirl before the one with the knife can stab me in the neck. A gun cocking behind my head makes me stiffen. Nostrils flaring, I raise my hands and get ready to attack, but before I can, the man behind me falls unconscious onto the floor. Turning quickly, I spot one of my fellow Assassins, Phoenix, finishing off the last two men. The hallway looks like a war zone with unconscious bodies lying in various spots on the floor. As soon as the last man is down, we both face each other. “What are you doing here?” We both ask in unison.

“Jesus! That kid never runs out of energy, does he?” A chuckle escapes my lips at his amazement. “Connor is definitely in a league of his own.” Declan looks down at his feet then back at me. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he looks nervous. Licking my lips, I lift my knees to my chest, wrap my arms around them and take a deep breath. “What are you?” I ask the question that has been niggling in the back of my mind since she showed up at the mansion. His brow quirks, but he maintains an even expression. “What do you mean?” Puffing out a breath, I throw back the covers and rise from the bed. “Wow,” I mutter out in disbelief. “Are we really going to play this game, Declan? Well, let me brea

It’s so juvenile. “I can honestly say I’ve heard nothing about Blacktop,” I say unemotionally. Blacktop is, of course, another assassin, known for killing his victims by running them down. He either makes it look like a simple hit-and-run or sets up a patsy to take the fall. Not the most creative way to kill someone, but it does get the job done. “Well, he won’t be competing this year because he went and got himself killed,” she says in amusement.

It was as if he wanted the world to know who was behind the violence, taunting the authorities who had failed to catch him for five years and counting. I am an assassin too, but I kill only when sent to do so. I made sure my targets were truly evil, and my killing motives were driven by the bastard who had murdered my innocent parents. Since that day, I had vowed to eradicate all the bad people I ever set my eyes on, and Cassius was next in line.

"They made the cure for you, too. These are the assassins trained to hunt the unwritten. Their blood is made of lead and virus. One scratch from those needles, and your fire will turn into ash. Your story will be deleted forever." The twelve assassins leaped from the roofs, landing in a perfect circle around Rowan and me. They didn't snarl. They didn't breathe. They just raised their green needles, and the red lines on their masks began to pulse in sync with my heartbeat. Damon leaned back against the door, his silent smile widening as he watched his secret weapon close in. He hadn't just brought a knife to a gunfight; he had brought an eraser to a drawing. I raised my spear of light, but th