The Executioners Novel Novels & Stories

Something heavy weighed on me, and Andrew's blood dripped into my eyes. "Thank goodness you're okay, Dawn…" Those were the last words I heard before I lost consciousness. I wondered how many people in this world would sacrifice their own lives to love someone else. Still, Andrew had done it.

It erupted. It didn't fire a beam. It didn't send drones. It simply unfolded like a piece of dark origami, and from its center stepped a being that made the previous Architects look like children’s toys. It was a figure of pure, blinding white light. It had no face, only a vertical slit of gold where a mouth should be. It didn't walk; it simply existed in different points of space simultaneously. This was the Executioner—the "System Delete" command given physical form.

He instinctively lifted his whip to strike, but before the leather could even uncoil, I flexed my fingers. The shadows on the floor came alive. They didn’t crawl; they snapped upward like iron spikes. Two massive, blade-like tendrils of pure darkness sliced through the air, completely severing the arms of the two front executioners before they could aim their flamethrowers. The men didn’t even have time to scream before the shadows wrapped around their helmets, crushing their skulls with a sickeningcrunch. “Kill her! Kill her now!” Jaxon shrieked, scrambling backward, abandoning his hold on Dominic as he retreated toward the exit.

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 the death, 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.

Willie gazed with his eyes totally open, his face brimming with outrage. As of now, Monica, who had been quiet this while, talked. "There are four kinds of chronic executioners as far as topographical ways of behaving the space type, meandering sort, fixed area type, and interruption type. The Death Judge is a common fixed area type. He would bait or hijack the casualty into a pre-arranged spot to perpetrate a wrongdoing. This sort of chronic executioner has an extremely amazing feeling of arranging and is exceptionally careful in his activities. Also, the Death Judge is a sure and quiet individual. I trust this won't be the final remaining one. He will perpetrate another wrongdoing!"

“And you threw it away for more. That’s the part I’ll never understand.” Michael shrugged. “Power is the only thing that matters in the end, you know that.” “No,” Ocean said. “It isn’t.” He stepped back. Vincent gave the nod. The executioner...a man who had done this before and would never speak of it...raised the gun. Traditional, and one shot to the back of the head. Michael closed his eyes at the last second. He whispered something that might have been a prayer, or a curse, or names. No one would ever know.

CHAPTER 104: Justice and Jealousy 2 Elena's POV The execution was set for sunset, and the entire fortress gathered in the courtyard to witness it. I stood near the back with Anna, my stomach churning with a mixture of dread and something else I couldn't name. The scaffold had been erected in the center of the courtyard, dark wood against the fading light of day. Silver chains hung from the posts, waiting. Kieran stood on the platform in full ceremonial armor, his face carved from stone. Marcus was beside him, along with the pack's executioner…a massive warrior I had never seen before, his face hidden behind a dark hood.

Chaos erupted. Everyone scrambled toward the soldier's hospital room. Miller dragged me by my handcuffs, pushing me to the front of the crowd. Through the glass, I saw Enzo tangled in a mess of tubes. Disgust flashed across my face. Then I gave Miller a faint smile. "If I had known you were so hard to kill, I would have used white phosphorus instead of cyanide." "I planned nine perfect executions, only for you to become the one stain on my record."

“No! It was self-defense! They were trying to…” His voice trailed off, a glint of steel catching his eye. The executioner, a hulking brute with a shaved head and a vacant stare, hefted his axe onto his shoulder, a sickening grin splitting his face. “Enough!” the pompous man boomed, silencing the crowd once more. “The evidence is clear! Annalisa Dubois is found guilty of—” “Wait!” I screamed, my voice breaking through the haze of terror. “If it was self-defense, wouldn’t there be… evidence?”

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.