Novel & Cerita The Killer's Game Book

“I read it here before about a case. Your case, Cassidy, is rare. Extremely rare.” “Yes, it is. I’m obviously aware of that.” Zarion drew a breath and Elliot’s eyes and mine met, a silent nod reflected that he’s very much aware that Zarion was aware of that too. Elliot flipped the pages of the book, written in a language I did not bother to understand. Not even a single try.

The cold metal of a gun pressed against the underside of my chin. "Did you not hear me the first time?" The man's hot, wet breath fanned across my face. My stomach turned. "I said get on the fucking floor, bitch." His dark eyes gleamed with malice. Some criminals were all bravado. They just wanted to snatch the goods and leave without actualy killing anyone. But the man in front of me? He wouldn't hesitate to murder someone in cold blood. He looked like he was itching for it. The drumming of my heart reached a fever pitch.

Alissa quickened her pace. A scene of destruction met her eyes. Kimberly's home had been ransacked. A trail of blood led into the kitchen. She followed it, being careful where she stood. She could place the smell now, it was death. She knelt beside Kimberly's body. Alissa begun to shake “Luca!” she pushed her mind to him “Luca, Kimberly's dead!” “I'm on my way, is Michael there?” “I don't think so”.

He looked ethereal and utterly terrifying. Master Giordano grinned, addressing the hall from his golden throne. "Everyone already knows the rules." He noticed me trembling in the line then his grin widened. "However, for the new face, I shall explain." His voice was calm, almost conversational, making the words sound even more monstrous. "The numbers on your bodies are points, and these points are to be earned by my sons." He gestured toward the six elegant boys holding guns. "The game will last for one whole hour."

“We’re playing with something that rewrites truth. If the killer’s involved in this, it’s worse than we thought.” I don’t answer right away. My eyes are still locked on the book. Because I know. This is only the beginning.

All I could see was brown, cream, and black. “Where...where...is she?” I coughed out. It felt like razor blades were slicing through the back of my throat with each hack of my cough. “You have to find her before Kroll finds you. Don’t you remember you are playing a game?” “How do I win?” The game...he did say we were going to play a game. “You can’t.” Her voice dropped; was she sad for me? “His whole life has consisted of killing people out of the blue. How could you have been so stupid?”

But it unluckily doesn't work. I am even more nervous. What is the Game they're talking about? "Once you're in the game, exercise your brain and heart. Don't just use your heart or your mind, but use them both." She took a deep breath and looked around. "The Game is necessary as being an official Zoner. It is never stated in Book Of A Zoner as to answer what it is but once you step into it, all the questions you want to be answered regarding it will also be heard. You will know its purpose and dive profoundly into its enigmas. "

Devil. When I had fled the club, I didn't go back home and had just stood at a corner outside the club. Cassius emerged moments later, cool and collected, entering his car and driving off as if nothing had happened. I quickly hailed a taxi and followed him, my heart racing. He stopped at a warehouse—was that where he killed people? Innocent people? Bastard. Did he derive joy from taking lives? It felt like a game to him. I, on the other hand, only killed bad people out of necessity, and I hated every moment of it.

“Do you know what the game is?” I frowned and shook my head. “Let’s call it . . . Terror of Survival. In that game, we needed to kill each other to survive and get the reward. So, they ruthlessly murdered each other in front of my eyes while I couldn’t do anything because I was doubting the bastards about the reward they were saying. Who knows if that reward was a deathless death? He shook his head.

"One day, it could be you in the crosshairs. Not because of who you are. Because of who I am." She turned. The morning light cut him in two—half the man who'd buried his face in her shoulder last night, half the expressionless killer at the end of the hall. "What? One day you'll shoot me?" The color drained from his face. "I'd sooner put a bullet in my own head." His voice had dropped to something almost inaudible. He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. Her tears fell. She didn't wipe them. She let him see.