Slaughterhouse Games Novels & Stories

If any of them think I'll go down easy… they've got another thing coming. When we crest the next hill, I see it. The Killground Holding Center sprawls below in a muddy clearing surrounded by sharpened pikes. Smoke curls from watchtowers. Cages rattle in neat rows full of doomed souls. Men in iron masks patrol the gates with spears longer than I am tall. Savage surrender, they call the Games. As if a girl like me would ever surrender. I bare my teeth one last time, pressing my forehead to the bars as we roll toward the gaping maw of the holding center.

Liam. It's another blood party tonight. Another moment when the winners of tonight's game will butcher our captives— Michael's men. They came to ambush us, kill us all, and bring victory to their pahkan, but instead, they met resistance. They met fire. They met battle. We engaged them in gunfire, shooting without mercy and with glee in our eyes. I couldn't be happier. Well, we lost about twenty of our men, Stefon included, and ten from our enemies' side, whereas the rest were captured and killed every game night we hosted in the bunker.

I had been gone only a few days, and they were already looking for a replacement to make burritos. So be it. I was a player, and they were ghosts. We were never meant to be on the same side. The kitchen was filled with danger—every creature crawling out was at least S-level. The players used a pile of items just to barely make one burrito. Some players remembered that ghosts didn’t eat human food and stuffed fingers, teeth, and other strange things into theirs. I walked into the kitchen, trembling, only to discover that the previously blood-soaked kitchen had instantly become spotless.

They were bound by a secret past that should never come to light. The most dangerous game had just begun.

"Don't worry, Tom. I won't let anyone who bullies you get away with it." However, when she turned her gaze back toward me, it was like she was looking at a piece of dead meat. "Lock him in the basement. Let him think over what he’s done." A crowd of people dragged me away like a tattered rag, throwing me into the basement and leaving a long smear of blood across the floor. The dust rushed into my face, making it hard to breathe. I clutched my stomach from years of severe malnutrition, which had triggered acute gastric issues, and the twisting pain was unbearable.

My mistress replied pulling the trigger I was speechless for the moment then I finally regain my voice "You can kill me for all I care..The one you have done is worse than death😡😭.. As I tried walking out of the house..She shot the gun To my Greatest surprise Selena ran to cover me making the bullet pierce into her flesh She staggered then fell to the floor Blood gushed out freely..... Laura ran out of the house leaving her luggage bag.. Philip descended two thunderous slaps on Montana cheeks

After saying that, Fane said in exasperation, "I feel like that hero who created the Whirling World is pretty bad at naming. Can't he name things a bit better?" Rudy was in no mood to care about that. He was incredibly excited when he heard that a lot would die. He pulled at Fane and asked, "Quickly tell me the rules–I'm so curious." Fane nodded, simply explaining the rules. The slaughter game was different from the slaughter gambit. The slaughter gambit needed ten participants, but the slaughter game needed two hundred and twenty. After two hundred and twenty participants registered, the slaughter game would start. All of the participants would start killing each other, and the game would s

Without sparing a second, he rushed towards the swaying corpses. Byul widened his eyes and soon realized that what he ever feared was right in front of him. Byul opener his mouth, in a slow motion, the beast passed by and lunged upfront making his anxiousness rose even more. “No!” Byul quickly turned his head towards the corpses but then he realized that he was too late. In a single second, everything was eventually torn apart. Stanley clawed his way into the dead bodies as he angrily tore them one by one without a thought. All the limbs and insides flung in the air showing a total slaughter.

The linguistic scholar died. Before we could even reach the secondary stairwell, the massive, tinted glass windows of the living room shattered inward. A hail of high-velocity tactical rounds tore through the air, punching violent holes into the dark velvet couches and marble walls. Three heavily armed mercenaries, clad in matte-black tactical gear and Vance syndicate insignias, breached the shattered ledge using high-tension ziplines from an adjacent rooftop. Malakai returned fire instantly, his sidearm barking three times in rapid succession. The lead mercenary dropped hard against the broken glass, a tight cluster of crimson blooming across his chest.

He asked and the men responded with a yes. "Good, let's play a game with him," Santiago took a gun and pointed it at Mathew, "It's nothing personal Police investigator Mathew Valenzuela, you were just caught in the web of two mafias, don't hold a grudge against me, okay?" He shot him in the forehead after saying those words. "You know what to do with his body," Santiago said and left the room, he took his kerchief and cleaned the blood on his hand, went to the spare room and took a new set of clothes and wore them before heading out.