The Killing Games Book Novels & Stories

Not yet. Liora sobs quietly beside me, rocking forward. “He was trying to do something good. Isn’t that supposed to matter?” I want to tell her yes. I want to believe that in a place like this, goodness still counts for something. But the silence that follows tells me the truth. It doesn’t. The Game doesn’t care about good. It only cares about survival. Kael bursts into the room moments later, boots skidding on marble. His eyes sweep the scene: Liora’s bloodied hands, the empty mirror, and the two of us kneeling on the floor.

Adalyn My world stood still when Malik uttered those words. He had killed my father. I just stared at him not knowing what to say or do. I felt a tear slip down my cheek. “Little dreamer, I’m so sorry.” His eyes were pleading with me, I could tell he was in pain. “Tell me what happened. Why did you kill my father?” He took a breath, “At one point in my life Beherit was like a father to me. I worked for him as an enforcer and did everything he asked of me, no questions asked. He told me that he had an enemy that was meddling in his and Apollyon’s business. He gave me an address and a team. We went to the house but only I entered. I had no idea who was in the house or why Beherit had sent me h

Wrong. The first few titles I sift through are the kind I expected to find in a place like this: image-heavy coffee table books about the estate. They have titles like Huntington Manor: A Photographic Tour, or The Architecture of Huntington Manor. Or even Settlers of Barberville: A History of the Region. But buried beneath all of those, I find a book that makes my insides twist. It's called The Cunninghams: The Unauthorized Story. I stare down at the gold embossed letters on the cover. This is a joke, right? This can't be real.

“Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to The Bloodlust Games, The final chapter” ************************* Re-entering the Bloodlust games was never an option in Kiara’s life. But when revenge is on the line and both she and Richard are forced into them, they have nothing to do but survive, for it was either play and live. Or die…

In fact, their chatters annoyed me. “Agreed.” Jarek slowly drew out. My brother was all in for the fun. Many people believed that I was more brutal than Jarek because I was more reserved. But the truth was that Jarek was worse. He was only bubbling with excitement because he couldn't wait to get blood on his hands. Killing gave him that thrill. “When are the games starting?” I asked. “Tomorrow. By midnight. I think I should eliminate that one first. I seriously don't like the way she looks.” He rolled his eyes while pointing at a girl. From where we stood, nobody would be able to see us.

“And the rest backed off. Then Kael grabbed her throat, nearly crushed it.” He shot Kael a sideways look. “You should’ve finished her.” Kael ignored that comment and turned fully toward Violet. “If there is a way to kill AURA—if there is even one chance—then it’s hidden between these two books.” He placed both hands on the table, on The Book of the Damned and the Thorne Grimoire. “So you’re going to search. Page by page. Line by line. Spell by spell.” Violet looked between him and the books, swallowing hard.

"I'm really sorry but I have to live too." "Killing someone in exchange for money?" Her eyes flashed. "I told you it was never about money! I'm not shallow! It was the game forcing me to do it!" Jana's head rolled on the side to look at her clearly. What Denise said called to her guesses. It was as though he only saw her right at this moment. 'She's a player too? But why does she wants to kill me?' 'Does she wants to kill the 'villain'? But I'm only a 'villain' to Gio and Hailey's story now!'

Seeing his color in her eyes is a knife I carry with me constantly; with every blink it presses a little deeper. I made her watch the coffin. I sat on the edge of the trees and let the wind carry her screams away from me, and when Roland crumpled I felt my throat fill with something that was not pity. My palms went slick; my vision tunneled. For a moment the world narrowed to the beat of his heart and the urge to put my boot through it. I tasted copper on my tongue and smelled the wet grass and the faint, animal sting of grief. The thought of killing him there was clean and bright as a bell but I folded it away like a blade into cloth. This is a game, and I decide the rules.

The air was electric, charged, ready to shatter. Adriana’s voice, when it came, was low and cold as steel. “So this is the game we’re playing.” Isabella smiled sweetly, withdrawing her hand. “Careful, darling. Games are dangerous when you don’t know the rules.” Adriana’s eyes locked on Damian’s. “Then it’s time someone rewrote them.” The storm inside him broke loose—but before he could speak, a gunshot cracked in the distance. Shouts erupted from the hall. The game had just turned deadly.

I thought back to that tiny detail from the fifth loop. No. 99 had said, "There's no winner in this game. The only way for you to live is to kill me, but then you become the next me." That was a paradox. Killing him meant losing, because I would become the next hunter. But not killing him also meant losing. So, what if this "room"—or rather, this "game arena"—was fake to begin with? I remembered the fifth loop. I never saw the changes in the numbers on the elevator. He just appeared from the elevator after a Ding, like an NPC spawning in an online game.