Novel & Cerita The Killer's Game Book

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.

She was in tears, knowing that she could have prevented this. Someone killed the least mentally stable person among us. They used her and killed her for their own personal gain. Urkstin was still unconscious, but he had seen the body first before any of us. Seeing this scarring image of one of his friends dead in a pool of their own blood. One of the people in this room was a murderer. And as I looked around at the remaining participants in this game, I had realized it. That for the third time in a row, in this god forsaken killing game, where no one can make it out alive,

Shane’s voice was steady, though his hands clenched tightly. “She looked out the window when the voice said not to. They don’t like it when you disobey.” “The what?” Shane didn’t answer her question right away. His eyes lingered on the girl with the rose blooming from her mouth, then slowly turned back to Farrah. “The ones who run this… whatever it is… they call it a game,” he said quietly. “But it’s not a game anyone wants to play.” Farrah’s hands clenched into a fist… “She’s dead, isn’t she?”

He pulled the trigger. Victor’s head snapped back. His body went limp. It was over. Almost. For as the mist of smoke disappeared, and Elena wrapped her shocked brother to herself, she did not notice the slip of paper fall from Victor's jacket. Killian did. He picked it up. Read it. Then his expression changed. "Elena," he interrupted roughly. She turned around, gasping. "What?" He held the paper overhead. It read: "This was not the final game. I was merely the distraction. The true foe is already inside. –D"

The senator's wife gaped stunned at Killian's declaration. She gazes straight into my eyes, searching — maybe for definition. Confusion. Disagreement It was all a game, and the winner goes home with the highest price, and failure was not an option on my plate Time stood still, and in the den of power-hungry elite donors, I could feel their gaze on me, curious. Jealousy. Pity. And we are all part of the game — I guess

I let the figure stand there until the wind shifted and the smell of lilies faded, until the shadow detached from the canvas and drifted away like smoke. Aurel never noticed. He was too deep in his calculations, too focused on the harmonic patterns he was tracing in the air between us. But I noticed. And I knew that the real killer had just tested my patience, just measured my restraint, and found it greater than they had expected. The game was not over. It had barely begun. And somewhere in the dark, someone was adjusting their strategy, rewriting their approach, preparing a frame that would not be so easily unmasked.

Kael’s hands tightened gently around Rhea’s as he made her sit on the edge of her bed. The room still smelled like dust, broken wood, and the cold scent of fear left behind by Hunters—but Kael’s presence cut through all of it. Solid. Grounding. Alpha. He knelt in front of her, his thumb brushing her wrist as he began explaining. “We found the Book of the Damned,” Kael said quietly. His voice held exhaustion, controlled fury, and a tired hope layered beneath. “Inside it… there’s a way. A real way to kill Khaenat.”

“There are gunshots outside, Dante! What kind of game is that?” His lips curved into the kind of smirk that didn’t belong in a night like this. Dark, dangerous, detached. “They call it hide and seek. If you’ve got enemies, tonight is the night you hunt them down. And if they find you first.....” he lifted his hand like a gun and pulled the trigger in the air. “Boom. You’re dead.” My mouth fell open. I stared at him, disgust curling inside my chest. “So they kill each other like animals....and call it a game?”