Scorpio Serial Killers Novels & Stories

“I didn’t have proof.” Quinn studied him. “Why this case?” For once, he hesitated. “I studied criminology,” he said. “We got a version of this case. It stuck.” It didn’t feel like the full truth. Quinn noticed, but let it go. “For now.” Damian stepped closer to the board, focus locking in again. “There’s a pattern,” he said. “Victims, locations… something connects them.” Quinn followed his gaze. “Then we find it.”

"I'm busy with something." "Right, so there's been a few hindrances," Marct said, standing up from Jackson's lap and walking over to me. "I just had a report from my guys. Someone has been following Jackson in the last week," I fought the urge to gasp and kept a straight face, while my heart picked up. "Two people, to be exact. They're from another Mafia. The Scorpios," Marct placed his iPad right in front of me, showing a picture of a man walking across the screen, wearing all black, with a cap covering his face. Right at the back of his left hand was a tattoo of a scorpion. "Do you recognise it?"

Stralath asked. "Yes." Coco pointed at more files on her desk. "We've had our hands full lately. First, dealing with Bobby's victims, and then the vibrio or fisheri who has packaged his siren toxin in an injection form. And now it seems we have a third killer who might be a serial offender." "Is Bobby still under surveillance?" Coco nodded. Stralath tapped the file. "This human is reckless—he beats and strangles his victims, and his method speaks of rage."

He smiled, radiating confidence and obvious arrogance. "I'm not Jackson's accomplice." "But you do obsess over serial killers?" Agent Scott was typing away frantically, I wondered if he would break his fingers with that speed. His dark eyes met mine for a second before jerking back to the iPad screen. "I have an interest in studying them. Nothing more than that and it has nothing to do with Jackson." "A scalpel was stolen from the operation theater and handed over to Jack." "He threatened me to do it!" I said angrily.

“Right, well good evening gentleman, im Norman Ashcroft head forensic psychologist and expert in serial killers, I have some very interesting information for you. First of all there are two types of serial killer- organized and disorganized. Organised- offenders are intelligent, socially and sexually competent. They carefully plan their killings; the victim is a stranger selected with care; mood is controlled before, during and after the crime. Crime scenes are usually neatly controlled. The Body is taken away and hidden, and the killer in this case is often difficult to catch.

So, they were the ones who welcomed the others, after Zariel left them, the common dragon of the end, at that time, so Tsuki was there, on a day off, waiting for details about the investigation of another moment, in which a series of deaths. Since they happened around each of the five states of the United States, then, a prolific psychopath and serial killer roamed those states, being known as the newest serial killer of the 21st centuries. Hikary: No..., I won't allow When there was one thump followed by another. Tsuki: He didn't... The rustling of leaves in the forest. Creatures: He's mine... Hikary: I won't run away... Narrator Then, claws were heard slicing through the air.

Scarlett. I watched the crowd disperse, and the cold began to seep into my bones. They had left me out here to die. I did not mean to kill anyone. I just wanted to get away. I was tired of everything, and I wanted to get away. I looked around me, teeth chattering, hoping someone would take pity on me, but no one was there. Everyone had left. I was forgotten. Bet they were all waiting until I die and my corpse becomes frozen before they come and help. I wanted to tug at the mate bond, but how they looked at me before they left discouraged me. If they had doubts about Bianca's allegations, this was an apparent offence. I had indeed drugged the reservoir, and it had led to deaths. I was a mass

He was the kind of man they could probably describe as villains in a novel. “His name is Scarlett. In the Mafia world, he goes by Jax. Notorious drug dealer and a serial killer, his existence in the crime world had being a pain in the ass since we got no substantial evidence against”. Douglas tapped the red light. “This is where he’ll be tonight. His private club. Tight security, but tonight he’s only bringing a few men. We need to apprehend him.” Alex frowned. “But how, sir?. We got no evidence on him. And if we do he’s not going down without a fight”.

After following James, the Blithe King created a legitimate identity for her. She was now called Skylar Caden. “I’ll go too.” Scorpion, number nine on the hitman ranking, stepped forward. He now lived as Jameson Caden. He said, “As a Solean, I have killed many of my countrymen, yet I have never done anything for my country. If the mission fails, I hope that you’ll bury me in the National Mausoleum, James. I want my family to be proud of me.” Midnight Wind, number five on the hitman ranking, grinned cheerily. “In that case, count me in.”

I waited twenty-five years for this—to feel Chicago’s soil underneath my feet, to walk the streets like I had owned it once upon a time, and to throttle my enemies with bare hands, watching the bloodbath as it would unfold. Twenty-five years ago, Alessandro Romano began to play God and Satan to this city, controlling and gaining wealth like it was his fucking birthright. Drugs, guns, gold, and diamonds—every illicit trade was either his or under his subjugation. They called him the Scorpion. The name had nothing to do with stupid astrology and everything to do with his predatory motives and venomous dealings. The things he had done to extend his hold over the city and expanse of his business