Novel & Cerita Short Murder Mystery Stories

BEFORE YOU READ You have ten seconds to run. Tropes: Forced proximity, size difference, breeding kink, and primal chase play. This story features a fugitive criminal fueled by adrenaline and testosterone invading your safe space. Expect dirty talk, roughness, and intense possessiveness. (***) Belle I never should have opened the door to fear. Or maybe, deep down, I was always waiting for it.

Chapter 9: Blood on Black Silk The gunshot cracked through the penthouse like thunder in a closed room, sharp and final. Alex’s head snapped up from where he had been tracing lazy circles on Victor’s bare chest, their bodies still tangled and slick from the slow, face-to-face fuck that had ended only minutes earlier. Victor’s gray eyes widened in shock. Then he jerked, a wet, ugly sound tearing from his throat as blood bloomed across the black silk sheets right below his ribs.

Chapter 1 Sophie’s POV. I couldn’t fucking sleep, not with Mia snoring like a drunk log in the next room after she pounded those tequila shots like it was her last night on earth. The lake house felt too quiet, just the soft slap of water against the dock outside and the creak of old wood settling. My skin was hot and sticky under this tiny tank top that barely covered my tits, the thin panties riding up between my ass cheeks and sticking to my pussy because I kept thinking about stupid shit I shouldn’t be thinking about.

“Twenty thousand in credit card debt. Four thousand from online loans. Last week, you mortgaged the house your parents left you, took out one hundred thousand, and put it all into a speculative gaming assets investment. “And that investment collapsed the day before yesterday. “Overnight, you lost everything and ended up buried in debt.” I opened my mouth, but no words came out. Yes, I needed money. But that didn’t mean I killed anyone. “We have reason to believe you planned this murder to secure the ten-thousand-dollar reward and to take revenge on your boss and colleagues. “You know how these escape rooms work. You led them into the trap, then hid yourself in a safe compartment and controll

The cold metal edge of the handcuffs brushed against my wrist. Beside me, Sophie was wailing at the top of her lungs. "Arrest her! Lock her up!" Leon kept his head down. His shoulders shook in a performance that perfectly captured a grieving grandson. The crowd of onlookers grew larger by the second. Everyone stared at me as if I were a convicted murderer. I could hear people filming on their phones and their venomous whispers. "How vile, targeting an old lady like that."

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

Her blonde hair was tied back in a messy ponytail, her blue eyes flicking toward the chattering customers before she turned back to Ashwin. “You heard, right?” she asked, keeping her voice low. He nodded, swallowing hard. “Yeah.” Sarah exhaled. “Eleven murders now. The whole town’s on edge.” The more Ashwin listened, the more details emerged, each one more unsettling than the last. “They found them this morning,” someone whispered from a nearby table. “All with their throats cut—wide open, like they never even saw it coming.” “Their eyes were still open,” another voice added, sending a chill down Ashwin’s spine. “Like they died looking at something that terrified them.”

MALACHI By dawn, the grim reality of the night’s events began to surface. Reports of multiple murders trickled in, each more gruesome than the last. The police had already cordoned off the crime scenes, but the details leaked out: the killings were the work of a single, methodical individual. Each victim had been mutilated, their hearts surgically removed and their bodies mangled, with several key bones missing from the skeletal remains. The motive was a void, and the selection of homes seemed entirely random, scattered across the territory with no discernible pattern.

“After you left, Grahame sent me a text message cancelling the golf because it was raining and before I could reply DI Silver rang me asking me for his help” “What happened?” “Man had been murdered,” I stated, taking a gulp from my drink. “Whereabouts?” “Magnolia Close.” Kimberley put down her glass. “Pretty exclusive setting for a murder, isn’t it?” “Murder has no class distinction, Kimberley. She shook her head. “How was he murdered?” “Shot while standing at his bedroom window,” I said, noticing that I had already demolished most of my pint. “So far none of the neighbours that have been spoken to saw or heard anything.”

In 1983 a Mrs Carson of New York was laid out in our coffin, presumed dead of hear disease. As mourners watched, she suddenly sat up, alive as you or I. Unfortunately her daughter dropped dead of fright on the spot. I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon. You can send me your short stories for a feature if you feel like it. Thanks for reading. Enjoy!I don't own any of this stories. I found them in some creepy books. I'm thinking of writing my own scary stories, but not anytime soon.