The Executioners Book Novels & Stories

His scream tore through the warehouse, raw and animalistic. “Try again,” I said, as I lowered the gun. “I ain’t saying shit,” another one muttered. I walked over and shot him in the stomach. The others flinched. I could feel the discomfort radiating off my own men like heat. But I wasn’t here for mercy. This wasn’t a courtroom, and I wasn’t a judge. I was the executioner. I stood in front of them again, breathing hard. “You stole from me. You cost me millions. You think you can walk into my territory, take my product, and not bleed for it?”

Aria’s scream echoed down the halls as they were swallowed by smoke. Chapter 16 ends with the reveal of a supernatural threat known as the Executioner—a creature immune to silver, who charges at Dorian and Aria, forcing them into a brutal fight that splits them apart in the middle of an ambush. Aria is left screaming as the smoke engulfs them, uncertain if Dorian survives the attack.

It’s all about faith. °°° The story ends here. Thanks for reading. Follow me on my I*, and get to know about my next book which is about their kids. Also, read my another book Beta Nocholas. It's a werewolf romance. Thanks again :)

RONAN'S POV I waited until the crowd was gone before I moved. The firelight was dying, the torches sputtering and fading one by one, and the open space where the executions had taken place was empty now except for the dark stains on the ground and the men who were already hosing the blood away like it was nothing more than mud that needed washing off. I stood at the edge of the shadows and watched the house where she had disappeared, and I tried to remember when I had last seen her look at me the way she did before she ran—like I was the only thing in the world that still made sense.

"We will be on our way now... to the real hell." Natzy spun around, but saw no one. She glanced back at the driver's seat. Still empty. She scoffed. "Playing with me, huh? Interesting." She returned the empty gun to its holster but kept the dagger clutched in her hand. 'Who the hell is behind that voice?' "The real executioner." Natzy froze. Wondering how her thoughts had been read aloud. She decided to play along, to uncover who was behind this. Suddenly, the bus lurched forward and began moving.

Reika’s betrayal still echoed in my mind, her words a sharp dagger of betrayal. The executioner's hand hovered over the lever, ready to send me to a land of no return. Immediately, he got consent from the Alpha. The anticipation of death and the feeling of pain surged through me. But then, unexpectedly, a woman from the crowd broke out in tears, her cries echoing through the slaughterhouse. “Stop!” she screamed, her voice raw with emotion. “Set her free!” Confusion rippled through the crowd, their murmurs of surprise filling the air. The executioners hesitated, unsure of what to do.

It couldn't be clearer that she intended to erase every trace of herself from the Lowe residence, but how could she be so cruel? A terrifying thought popped into his head. If she hated them this much, could they ever find her again? And even if they did, would she forgive them and come home with them? A crushing pain weighed on Kieran's chest. Suddenly, he coughed up a mouthful of blood. The world went dark, and he collapsed, losing consciousness.

He let out a sigh as he settled in behind me, sliding his arm under me and pulling me close. I turned and for reasons unknown, slipped my arm around him and nuzzled his chest. Maybe it was just that some way, somehow, in the company of killers, he was my safety. My captor. My killer. My security. When did my executioner become my lifeline? Life with One was not fun. Less than forty-eight hours in and I wanted to smack her, but that would be unwise. Even the bottom of the Killing Corps scale probably had more killing capability than a hundred soldiers.

He was the **Executioner** of Aethelgard. "Subject 01 identified," the Silas-Sentry boomed, his voice a cold, mechanical chorus. "Violation of 'Reality-Protocols' detected. Initiating: **Final Deletion**." He raised a massive, white blade of light, aimed directly at my flickering heart. And then, a new sound filled the air. It wasn't a scream. It was a **Song**. From the shadows of the "Stitched" houses, the "Glitches" of the Trash Folder began to emerge. Jack the Noir Man, the Protagonist, the wireframe dragons—they were all here, standing on the streets of Seattle.

“He is not a legend. He is the warning.” In the center of the hall, the Executioner walked among the levitating bodies. With each step, the pressure in the air increased. “You have broken the pact,” his voice sounded, cold and articulated like the snap of a chain. “You have violated the balance to feed sick ambitions.” He stopped. The weapon on his arm pulsed. “The judgment has been made.” The bodies burst. Not in fire, not in sound. In silence. Blood ran down the walls like ink. Flesh dissolved like burned paper.