Order Killer Novels & Stories

"We'd never have met, Mr. Bloodbane, but your continued delays of your mission triggered this encounter." Short answer, but it told Kaldor a lot. His gaze sharpened. "You're the employer?" He was stunned. An employer never met with the hired killer. That was the rule borne from the conflict of interest. The Black Sun had a rule that the killers were not to meet up with the employer without permission. Yet now his employer showed up like it was nothing. The Madam didn't answer his question. She continued, "Time is not an infinite resource. Your focus should be on your task at hand. And I know of the matter that convinced you to set your mission aside time and time again."

he snarled. "Oh really? Denial, is that what you are going with? Now Brad, this impersonator standing in front of you, his real name is Rhett Olive and not Harry Locke. He has been deceiving us all this while. All he wants to do is kill you and he found this as a perfect strategy to use. He means no good, please believe me" I said. " I don't understand, are you saying Harry Locke isn't Harry Locke and is in fact Rhett Olive?" Brad asked..

The phone was securely in her hand. “T—Thank you,” she breathed very fast. “Don’t mention it,” Clemente waved his hand. Aurora looked to the killer. He lay by the edge of the cliff, his body cold and stiff. He was dead. “He killed himself,” Clemente said with a frown. “Mercenaries like him commit suicide after a failed job so that no one can get the name of their hirer out of mouth…Now we will never know who hired him.”

Alex brushed my hair back from my face and looked down at me with something I couldn’t name in his expression. “Now you remember,” he said. “I do.” He helped me sit upright on the rug, the fire across the room casting shadows along the edge of my vision. “I saw more than the kill order,” I said, my voice rough. “There was a name.” “Whose?” “The Broker.” Alex stiffened. “That’s what they called him. I never saw his face. No one did. But I heard his voice again. Calm, emotionless. He gave the kill order himself.”

The assassin faltered—eyes widening. “Answer—or die.” I advanced. He spat blood. “Orders. You. By morning. From the spider.” The spider. No one in my world ever called names aloud. Someone was amping the game. “Orders from whom?” My voice low, sharp. He coughed. “Dexter Webb.” No god in heaven. The name slammed into my chest. Rogue mastermind, exiled leader, twisted mind. Nothing about him was subtle. And now he was playing chess with my life.

When so much money was offered, some excellent killers would definitely sign up. That was the truth. Less than half a day after the kill order was announced, a large number of killers had made their way to Art Trading Corporation. Some came from East Ocean, some came from West Ocean, some were professional hitmen, and others were just normal individuals. There were various kinds of people. Anyone who was a ranked killer in the world had basically arrived. Naturally, it was unrealistic to let so many people go out there and kill Thomas. It was about assassinating him, not directly attacking him by force. If such a large group of people rushed out, they might be suppressed before they could ev

The assassin lifted his head and looked at her, then lowered his head in dismay. “The Night King is the supreme overlord of the entire black market. We black-market assassins regard him with deep respect. I guess you could say that it was just our dumb luck, Miss Green. If we had known that you were Night King’s friend, we would never have accepted this job, no matter how much money the employer offered. We’re doomed now.” ‘Okay! Looks like the person who wants me dead hired the assassins from the black market.’ “You told the Night King that you’d give the identity of your employer to the police. Who’s your employer?” Charlotte persisted in asking. “Is she Lorraine Larson?”

He took the oath before sitting. Dylan walked closer. "State your name." "Viktor Schneider." "Your occupation?" "I own The Velvet Room." "Were you acquainted with Marcus Kuntz?" "Yes." "In what capacity?" "He was one of our regular clients." "Were you working on the evening of his death?" "Yes." "Did Dr. Karma Kuntz visit your establishment that evening?" "She did." "What did she do there?" "She met with one of the dancers." "Who?" "I don't know her real name, but she goes by Mia."

Annoyed that he belittled me to a contract killer, and requested I kill the mother fucker with a kitchen knife instead of my newly launched gun. I almost blatantly declined the contract but on hearing his pay, I wouldn't hesitate. What I wanted more than any other thing. He offered to use his connection and find out about what happened 11 years ago at my pack. I have killed hundreds of humans for this information, I couldn't afford to miss the deal. The venue was biviclub and the target was Mr. Christopher. A famous billionaire womanizer CEO. Just then , my phone buzzed. The caller identity was showing Mr. Anderson. I clicked on the blue botton and fixed the phone to my ear.

She walked over to sit next to Alex, though she and Richard still shot each other one last glare. “What did you uncover in the investigation?” Richard uncrossed his legs, his expression turning serious. “The car used in the attack had fake plates, and it’s already been scrapped. We checked recent contract killings from the past year, but neither ‘Haley’ nor ‘Emily Yates’ showed up in any records. “That means the hit wasn’t ordered through any major organization. It was likely carried out by an unaffiliated, rogue assassin—a freelancer with no loyalty or discipline. They’ll take on anything, from murder to robbery. In the industry, we call them ‘guns-for-hire.’