Scream 3rd Killer Novels & Stories

The clerk yelped in pain as the killer shot his hand, making three of his fingers and the phone fall off. "Oh my God! You fuckin... stupid!.. " He screamed on the ground holding his hand. "What do you want!?" Mr. Greg asked as Mr. Brown began to wee on his trousers. "Nice question," the killer said and smiled. "Now, where the hell is the Mayor?" He asked as they began to shake. "And why are we gonna.." Mr. Greg didn't finish his speech as the killer blew off his brain. "Oh, My God!" Mr. Brown said as he began to cry.

She asked, growing angry at his accusations. “She is a Vurthron, a black widow and a killer.” He replied. What the heck?

Sinclair. Michael did not care. Watching the scenery pass by through the window, I believed I had won, but the cycle of blood simply repeated itself. When the landscape grew darker and farther from the city, I realized something was wrong. “Where are we going?” I asked, leaning forward. “Orders from Mr. Sinclair,” was the last thing he said to me. I tried to scream. I tried to kick, to bite, to scratch, but it was useless. It did not take long before he stopped the car and turned toward me, a gun in his hand, firing into my forehead without hesitation.

Melanie's eyes flashed with anger, and suddenly she clutched her stomach while exclaiming, "My stomach... Is the baby coming?!" Henry's face twisted in sudden panic, and he swept Melanie into his arms, bolting for the door. As he rushed by, Melanie's hand shot out, gripping my arm with a fierce tug. I stumbled, crashing to the ground as Wren's gasp echoed in my ears. Pain washed over me, turning my face ghostly pale. Wren, shaking, lifted me up, her voice breaking as she called for a doctor. Through the blur, I caught Henry hesitating for a split second, but then, he was gone, not once looking back.

I stood outside the operating theater, feeling lost. My third brother, Carl, shoved me to the floor and called me a monster. He said I'd cursed them, that I was the reason for my parents' deaths. I scraped my palm on the floor, and blood oozed out. I wanted to cry from the pain but forced myself to hold it in when I looked around. The people standing around me didn't dare come near—I could see the fear and hatred in their eyes. I didn't dare make a sound. All I did was bite my lip and get to my feet. Then, I dusted my dress off and comforted myself.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, this case is straightforward." He began pacing slowly. "The defendant had both motive and opportunity. She was actively searching for the deceased on the night of his death. She was the last known family member attempting to locate him and it is well known that she ran away from her home at an early age." He looked towards my direction. "And before the end of this trial, we shall prove beyond reasonable doubt that Dr. Karma Kuntz murdered her father." He returned to his seat. "The State calls Mr. Viktor Schneider." A middle-aged man in an expensive charcoal suit approached the witness stand. He took the oath before sitting.

Couldn't stop seeing his face when he'd said"this one is dangerous" A minute passed. Five. Ten. Then she heard it. Footsteps on gravel. A door opening somewhere in the dark. Muffled voices— too low to make out the words. Then a pause. And Three gunshots. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Silence. Minutes that felt like hours. Then the driver's door opened. He slid into the seat. His hands were steady. His face was unreadable. But there was fresh blood on his shirt— not his, she could tell now, the way he moved, no wince— and his knuckles were raw.

A final act of rebellion. It was then that I made my choice. Valerie just grins at me and shakes her head. With a final, agonizing twist in the head, I silenced Valerie forever. The place fell into an eerie stillness, the truth hanging heavy in the air. Now I know how it feels like to kill someone for revenge. As I stepped back, my heart was heavy with the weight of the lives lost and the sacrifices made. I knew there was no turning back. I’ve killed someone. I’ve sacrificed a few of my pack members just to obliterate and crush every Rogue.

March 15. An identity fitted to torment the killer of the poor woman. “Do you understand? ANSWER ME, 0315.” I, who was driven into the corner of guilt and endless nightmare, looked into the predatory gleam in his red eyes. “Yes, my Lycan.”