The Murder Game Book Novels & Stories

“Smart. Good instincts. You’ll need them.” “I’m not interested in cryptic games.” Genevieve turned to leave. “But you are interested in the truth.” The woman with a smile on her face, like she knew that Genevieve was going to stop Genevieve from leaving. That made Genevieve pause. She turned and waited for the woman to continue talking. The woman stepped closer. “What if I told you Charles’s death was only the beginning?” Genevieve narrowed her eyes as her stomach tightened. “The beginning of what?”

"We will see who wins first, Brother," He stood up and smirked at me, sparking a challenge I won’t back away from. "Either your revenge... or my extortion?" My smirk also grew wider as I replied strongly, having no intentions of failing. "We will see," He let out a quiet jeering laugh and left me all alone in my undesirable thoughts after starting a lethal game. I stared at the crack in the glass with a blaze igniting in my eyes as I threw the glass away, shattering it to pieces.

I cocked my head from right to left. I noticed that one of the books was open and I approached slowly with a frown. There was a part underlined in fluorescent yellow that said: "Not everything that is around you is real, sometimes the same wolf dresses as sheep to hunt" "Shit!" I said quietly. I don't know why, but I related this sentence to what was happening. The double lives of my "friends" and of course the murder of Max, I was sure they had murdered him. But ... How did these books fall here? Who opened this book in this chapter? ”I wondered.

Geneva walked through her trembling feet and thinking what she have done to arrest her, While she's walking backward, she heard "Put a handcuffs of him," "Him?" she said, when she turned around she saw they arresting a man, A man who threw the gun at her a while ago, he was arrested by committing a crime nearer, One of the cops staring at Geneva while shook his head, Geneva smiles out of embarrassment with her hand's up, She looked at her arms and annoyed that it still up, she let cops leave first before she let her arms down,

Summers said. “”I’m good too, how’s the weather in London?” Whitefield asked. “Cold, but not as cold as New York, where are you at the moment?” Summers asked. “I’m on my way to dinner, with my wife and daughter, is anything the matter?” Whitefield asked. “Well yeah, Mclean was murdered yesterday, his wife told me today when I went to inspect the paintings, and the sick thing is that he was murdered in the same fashion as the other victims, Carl I’m becoming more scared and worried”.

I paused, swallowing at the stunned expression marking Ace's face, "if he kills himself they can't pin the murder on you. It just needs to look believable." ***Author's Note: Please read book 1: Gunnar first! Just in case you haven't. It's easier to understand this book if you read that first!

Tyler reward me with a small smile probably to comfort me, but he could be lying. I stood in front of the door alone, contemplating if I should push the doors open again and again. Going through every scenario in my head, some of them involving the chopping-off of my fingers and others involving too many rounds of bullets for me to count, but I reminded myself each time that I had to do this. Admittedly it was easier when I had a death wish, but Arthur ruined that one for me. I wanted to know more and I have now made it my mission to figure out the whole story that got me messed up in the fucking Russian Mafia.

His hair was short with a little curl in it. "You got my book yet?" He asked very eagerly. His book order was late for the third time. But finally, it arrived. "Actually yes it is. It came in this morning. Let me go grab it." I walked to the storage room that I had them build in while I was renovating the place. Once I grabbed his book called The Host. I walked back in to see him aiming a gun at me. The book dropped out of my hands and I slowly put my hands up in the air.

he asks, his nostrils flare, and I swear I can see an invisible steam pipe out from his ears. "Antonio!" Natasha stands from her seat, "Let's go out and talk, let's not do this here please," she whispers, we're already drawing attention as it seems. "Yeah, you're damn right. What are you doing with her? Speaking about that murderer huh?" he looks at the table, the pictures of my dad and his, and scoffs, "Or, those murderers rather." "No one is a murderer Antonio, go home," she faces him. "Murderers?" I ask

Killing a woman who posts no threats to her is too much. As the hired man approached Marie Arnold, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit alleyway, he felt a familiar surge of adrenaline coursing through his veins. He had always been killing, and this is the same feeling he always feels whenever he is about to kill someone. He knew what he had been tasked to do, but as he drew closer to his target, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling of doubt that gnawed at the edges of his conscience.