Sin Killer Book Novels & Stories

A book appeared on the table. “That I'd a book of knowledge. It contains all you need to know about the situation and how best to handle it. This book was made for special wolves like you, Elinna but only three out of thousands have lived long enough to touch you and you will be the only one to read it.” Wow. So the Fatals just kept killing them every time. If they could kill those many people, what makes me different? What makes me think they can't kill me just like the others?

I still wanted to press him for an answer, but I became so engrossed in his tale that I pushed it into the back of my mind. This sounded like a story that would lead to a war—with lots of causalities. “I took sixty of my best men and confronted him on his doorstep. He had just transferred the product into the back of his van. I pride myself on being a fair and just Skull King. I don’t execute a man unless I’m positive that he’s guilty. And if he is guilty, depending on the severity of the crime, I always extend a less cruel punishment—if they earn it. But they have to be honest with me, look me in the eye and tell me exactly what they did. Unfortunately, Hunter Reyes insulted me by expecting

"I need the anatomy book you've got—full-on body display and the one murderers look for.." The man licks his lips, swallowing before seeming to open a secret drawer underneath his desk. "I know what you need; this book is named, 'How To Kill Like A Serial Killer,' and it's everything you're searching for, ma’am." I smile. "How much?" Two minutes later, I hurry to leave the bookstore. I ended up buying the goddamn book and some other anatomy book I’m obsessed with to keep me up all night and ignore Axel. These books will surely keep me from trying to kill Axel.

I barely made it to the corner before vomiting, shaking uncontrollably. The taste of bile burned my throat. My whole body convulsed with grief, horror, self-loathing. I killed her. I pressed a trembling hand over my mouth, muffling the sobs. I couldn’t think. Couldn’t breathe. My clothes—where were they? I forced myself to move—staggering, grabbing the scattered pieces. Shoving trembling legs into pants, pulling my sweatshirt over shaking shoulders. I glanced once more at Sophie. Her perfect body. Her empty eyes.

Because deep down, he knows. He killed her. My throat goes dry, and the screen in front of me blurs, but no matter how much I blink, the words don’t change. Every clue lead back to him. Nicklaus murdered Selene.

Collins said, and Sharlene widened her eyes. "Oh my god, how could I not pinpoint it? She is the legendary LK?" Sharlene squealed before sitting childishly. "She is an unknown killer with mysterious motives. What is legendary about her?" I asked her, feeling strange that she thought a mere killer was legendary rather than her brother, who was a king, and she snapped her head towards me as if offended.

When they saw that I still dared to joke, they immediately mocked me back. “Mia Schmidt, you murdered your own family. It’s only normal that we keep our guard up around you!” My expression was still playful as I gazed at them. “How could I be so ruthless as to fight all three of them on my own? You really think highly of me. “Of course, I drugged them first before I killed them.” When everyone saw that I had finally opened up, they held their breath while waiting for me to continue. But I schooled my expression again and stopped talking.

My eyes suddenly focused on one book, ‘The rare breed – how to train and guide new vampires’, it was called. New vampires? I thought, does that mean when they’re children? I wondered as I picked it up. Just as I pulled it out from its resting place, I heard a small thump behind it. I looked into the bookshelf to see an old black book had fallen behind the ones in front. Setting the one in my hand on a little wooden table next to me, I picked up the black book. I took in a sharp inhale of breath when I saw the same detailed pattern that was on the dagger Kyan had shown me. ‘The hunters’ was all it said on the front, the same book Kyan and Zekan had spent days looking for.

He gathered up the pages from the floor and carried them to the collapsible brown card table that served as his desk and dining table, then fetched a glass of ice water from the refrigerator before sitting down to continue his work. With the television off, the apartment was quiet. The refrigerator made low, gurgling noises in the kitchen, and every now and then the sound of a car passing by outside filtered in through the open bedroom window. Conner noticed neither. Using the police reports to guide him, he scribbled more notes, starting with what they knew and what he had surmised about the killer. The guy was big, probably over six feet, and exceptionally strong. He wore size eleven and a

Not with this character anyway. If they'd desired merely to knock me out, they could have done so relatively quickly. Instead, the assassin could have shot in me the back. Or, without a silencer and didn't want noise, a tap on the head and a heave over the rail to the hospital car park sixty feet below would have served their purpose equally well. But this assailant didn't want anything so quiet and painless and straightforward. If I was to die, this killer wished to know I was dying for me, this assassin the tearing agony of death by violence, for the delight of savouring my suffering—a vicious evil sadist with a dark mind crimsoned by the lust for blood. The murderer of fourteen people and