The Comic Book Murder Novels & Stories

he gave a look as if warning her. "You know if you want to kill me, just do and get this over, I'm tired of hiding " " Ohh, Darling." he tucked a strand of her hair, and Alison pulled her face back. "You were never the target; it was Nicholas; the house wasn't the first time we met Alison. I bought paintings from you two years ago. I was stunned by your resemblance with her, so I watched you and I plotted the whole thing. The incident at your house, the murder you witnessed, wasn't a coincidence; I let it happen. It was the only way for Nicholas to meet you "

You never cared about anyone else. "It's how you should be in the mafia!" He responded, his jaw clenched and his eyes locked on me, "It's either you or no one!" "Well, now you have no one to get you out of this." I smirked, taking out my dagger from my hostler since I was still dressed up from that party, "I'm gonna take over the Russian Mafia, after I kill you." "You won't dare to kill me," he rolled his eyes, "I'm your father and you're my daughter!" He shouted which made me laugh darkly, "Sean was your son and Michael was my best friend—you didn't hesitate before shooting them, you bloody asshole!"

This makes her fall off balance, leaving most of her body exposed to me. I channel my power and kick her in the stomach as hard as I can. She flies backward, tumbling over the staircase, her mouth and eyes wide and silent with surprise. Hacking and coughing, I scramble on all fours to the side of the stairs. Elena lies below, right next to Hank's body. She doesn't move. The sick truth sets in, and I fall backwards onto my butt. I've killed her.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed ins

I look up at him, hands on knees, and ask, “What makes him so sure the murders are connected to Tibet?” Norbu steps behind the reception desk, opens a drawer and roots around in it. At my approach, he sets a folded tabloid on the desktop and glances around the lobby furtively before opening it to a dog-eared page. The blocky headline proclaims DOYERS STREET SLAUGHTER over a lo-fi newsprint photo in garish colors. The blood looks like cherry syrup, but the photographer soaked up a lot of it, probably from a fire escape with a telephoto lens before the cops covered up the dismembered body. It’s hard to extract details from the halftone dots, but I’m pretty sure I see bones jutting out of raw m

Matteo pointed a place up there and stood by the stairs, watching me. I headed there and Duncan cornered me. He still his his face behind a mask and a hoodie. “You’re protecting the wrong twin.” As always, he has come with a new scheme to deceive me but I was in no mood for that now. His words only angered me the more. I was still reeling from the shock of what happened back there and my my breath was shallow. I just saw a dead body, I witnessed a murder and the gun was first pointed at me. I just need to clear my head first. Because that's a very costly joke Lucian pulled off back there and I'm really not a fan of such crazy jokes.

The speakers that should have been playing solemn songs were blasting eerie, discordant music instead. “Ah, now that’s more like it!” Anthony laughed as he kicked the urn aside. Ashes scattered across the floor. Then, he grabbed a paint marker and began scribbling all over the deceased's name until it was completely defaced. I stood there in a daze, staring at the scene in front of me with a lump in my throat. At that moment, the door to the funeral hall was pushed open. Laura walked in on her high heels, her gaze sweeping across the chaos filling the room, yet there wasn’t the slightest hint of anger on her face. If anything, there was a faint, cruel smile hidden in her eyes.

He loves Owen and Owen loves him. “I'm okay. But there was a murder here. I think that someone is trying to frame me, because they broke in to my work shop and used my tools. I was taking into custody but once I pointed out how the murder doesn't make sense for me to have recreated it, they let me go. I am still a suspect, I know. Lord knows the whole town will want to throw the book at me, thinking that I did it. They have been waiting for something like thise for years-”

His features were unrecognizable. Something inside me snapped, and I began wailing uncontrollably. Esther walked over and tried to comfort me. "Eve, is he really Leo? Aww. Don't be too sad. The dead can't come back to life–" I pushed her away and lunged forward before grabbing her by the collar. "You killed him!" She fell to the ground and looked aggrieved. "Eve! I told you it wasn't on purpose! What are you doing?" "Not on purpose? Why didn't you say that when you stopped me from calling emergency services?"

He drilled bullets through Daquan Hillevi, Amaya and Leo's uncle, the commissioner of NYC police department in the head thrice before dropping his cold dead body that fell onto the cold, dusty warehouse floor. Bullets started flying around and I had to duck. Mrs. Spikes, me, Maisie, Sheryl, Sal and Amaya wrapped ourselves around Leonard Hillevi who was too young to have had such a big bite of the wicked world whist covering our ears to dampen the sound of metals against metal, bullets against walls and bullets against bodies. ** Two days passed and all things were almost back to normal. The businessman and most of his men were either dead or in a cell.