Suspense Thriller Novels & Stories

I tried to caution myself and quickly shook my head the moment I noticed that the endless shooting and struggle around had already subsided. I blink rapidly, wondering if it is going to be a great idea to step out and see if everything is okay, but then I remember that I have to stay with him and wait for him to get back. Uurrgh. This is the worst thing I hate about suspense. It just keeps me bound without any way to escape from a situation that feels as if my heart is being tugged in different directions. I hear whispers and discussions between two individuals, and it makes me try my best to keep silent as I strain my ears to hear whatever is being said.

Neither was the type to walk away from a job until it was finished. The FBI might have been making pests of themselves, going around town, asking questions, but Sullivan was the true threat—the only threat. The FBI would give up after a while, move out. They had timetables and a strict budget. Sullivan would stay and keep distracting him from his art, from his true calling. It pissed him off. Sullivan was nobody. The man had no idea what he was messing with. Across the reservoir, the detective was staring into the dark hole of the grave. The ground hadn’t been able to hold him.

Her left one being milky-white was stained by a murky shadow that was shaped into pea-size flame, dancing in the moonlight; the right, meanwhile, had its purple splashed with a crimson glint, circling and outlining its shape, never-ending. But what was more terrifying was the monster lying in wait behind the glint. It was readying itself to morph into the being that would ravage anyone near it, and despite the horrors she’d seen along with Sheels, she couldn’t help feeling wary of what Hera could do. She gulped as she tried containing her emotion, finding it a lot harder to stop her body from shaking than actually looking away at her. “Relax, Hera!” Sheels’s voice had brought Hera out of her

And knowing Misha, Blanche always worry about her impulsiveness on certain things, but out of all those things, it's the lack of curiosity for Blanche that always puts her off guard. It was like waiting in a coffee shop for a person who wouldn't come. It's an exhausting, abominable, chagrin thing. The wind became thin, she has a hard time breathing because she heard her inside somersault, her blood pulsing, her sweat forming, she knew it was time to shoot, the sound of the motor indicating it was near, Blanche knew it was time to shoot, she knew it was, yet she didn't shoot. "Honestly, I don't know, Moss," she replied, looking at the untouched devil's cake in front of her.

He asked, walking towards the center of the office. "Just the usual thing, and reply Mr. Wills." Emily replied, smiling. Mr. Wills was a really good man and colleague, especially when it came to work experience and office relationship and when he wasn't trying to encourage Emily to keep fighting. "What's good?" Emily asked, nodding her head in the direction of the cellophane bag he held in his hands. "This?" He scratched his hair and left them standing in spikes, "l almost forgot." He smiled, dropping the cellophane bag on the table and pushing it towards the center so that Emily could have a better look. "It was picked up from a crime scene this morning."

“Let me get to the point. Someone is threatening my fiancée and me and I want to know who it is.” “I’m the one who is threatening you.” Andre drew her gun before Suzie finished her sentence.” Philip raised his hand and Andre lowered the weapon but kept alert. “Why?” “You told me you would never fall in love after me, you told me you didn’t want children and you would never get married but here you are doing all three things and NOT with me.” “You can’t be serious Suzie! ALL we did was SLEEP together, there was no love between us. What the fuck are you playing at?”

The look he shoots Kalix sends a chill down my spine. Yes, ME, a girl who once had an encounter with an Italian Mafia Don during a trip back in the motherland... don't ask, just use it as context here. "So, you brought her here?!" Max lashes out at Kalix. "The cause of all this chaos in the first place?!" Hold on a second. Did he just say I'm responsible for something I have absolutely no clue about? My slayer senses are telling me you're about to explode... You're damn right I am!

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

The building was still as cold as they remembered. The corridors were silent to death. Dim lights add to the chillness of the walls. A certain odour lingered in the dark holes in the walls. It was a castle. But it seemed like nobody lived in it. A faint hint of blood entered Max's nostrils and he held his breath. It burnt his inside.

I go into the living room and lie down on the couch looking at the ceiling. So many questions going through my mind. So many thoughts. Who is that guy? Who shot him and why? Is it dangerous? Is he a drug dealer even though he looks like he came out of a Calvin Klein magazine? Was it the right decision to take him home? What if he gets up and kills me? What if he kidnaps me? What if sells me to someone? Oh my god, I read too many books on wattpad. This is no fictional word and I'm not a character in it.