The Murder Game Book Novels & Stories

After a whole night of arguing, I was tired. The only progress I made was that I had finally clarified everything with Samuel. The air was filled with the scent of freedom, and even the sky seemed to have cleared up. However, I could feel Jason's body stiffen a little. "I can explain why I took part in this game." Jason seemed to have made up his mind. But I interrupted him. "I knew about it a long time ago. I didn't find out from your phone. I'm just… tired. I don't care that you joined the game, so don't worry about it."

too sick to feel embarrassed at the request, Lynan turned his face up to catch Yael’s eyes. The man chuckled and ruffled his hair. “I’d have to let you go to get our book.” “I’ll go fetch it,” Liev stood from where he had been reclining on the couch opposite the bed they were currently in and set off into the mansion once he received his instructions on where to locate the novel. Liev returned quickly with the murder mystery that Yael had started reading to Lynan a few weeks ago. Lynan settled in for the evening as did the other contestants who were sitting in the lounge. Yael picked up where they left of all that time ago and he closed his eyes, letting that smooth voice wash over him.

He let out a hollow laugh. "Happy family, my ass," he muttered under his breath. A sudden realization hit him. Jean wasn't the only player in this twisted game. There was someone else, someone who had managed to make a murder look like a natural death. The idea was so audaciously brilliant, it was almost admirable. Gilbert leaned back in the chair, a dark smile playing on his lips. He felt a spark of excitement, a thrill he hadn't felt in a long time. "So, there's another player in the game, and he maybe Jean's ally." he murmured, his voice filled with a chilling delight, "This is getting interesting."

Some of the remaining players were scheming. Day seven. There was one day left to beat the level. The last three surviving players exchanged glances and sidled toward me. “Mrs. Wade! Mrs. Wade!” The one with big eyes put on a fake smile. “We found a spot. It looks like there might be a clue to finish the level! But it’s dark, and we’re scared. Could you lead the way?” My old eyes squinted, but I did not see through their scheme.

“Everything is his fault! He didn’t even know the most basic surgical steps during the operation. That’s what killed the patient! I was just… He deceived me!” Anthony immediately exploded. “You’re lying! You were the one who forced me onto that operating table! You knew I didn’t have medical qualifications, yet you still made me impersonate a doctor in surgery! The patient died, but you're the real lead surgeon, so you're the real murderer!” “If you hadn’t clung to me, would I even have let you into that operating room?” Laura shouted back. Anthony refused to back down. “You think you’re so innocent? Without you, I still had connections. I could’ve gotten into the hospital anyway! You were t

He held it low, finger resting on the trigger guard, and unlocked the door as quietly as he could. The house was dark. Silent. Bernard stepped inside, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. He moved slowly, carefully, listening for any sound that didn't belong. The living room was to his left. Kitchen straight ahead. Hallway to the bedrooms on his right. He moved toward the living room first, his back against the wall. Then he saw a shadow, moving fast across the room. Bernard spun around, his gun coming up– But before he could see anything clearly, a hand shot out from behind him and grabbed his neck.

Most things are about detectives and all their boring stuff but something tells me to go through it because I might know a thing or two. I've opened almost all the books on the first shelf. Turns out detective books are not so bad. I also passed out my time by checking some of the murder novels on the shelve. One really caught my interest. Dying to call you by Elaine Viet. It's about a girl finding her sister's murderer and all that.

Yeah, he'd learned to practice patience, but dealing with the police while they questioned Betty had just about driven him to the edge of reason. He opened the car door for her, holding her elbow as she climbed in. Daylight had waned, and the parking garage was dimly lit, the sound of other hospital visitors echoing through the cement structures. Betty listened for other things. Furtive footballs on the pavement. The click of a gun safety being released. The slide of fabric or the soft huff is a breath. Someone had tried to kill Dan just a few weeks ago, and there was no reason to believe that person would be content to let him live. The road went quiet as he stepped around the car. The soun

A pity. “Are you even listening to me?” I lifted my eyes from the book in my hand. The Mark of Exile. It was the sequel to The Corpse in the Fog—a crime story about a man killing the lover of the woman he desperately wanted. You could say I was taking notes of very effective and interesting ways to kill Zesa’s lover. I’d had enough of him impeding my happiness.

His look is completed by black hair and an upside-down cross hung in his left ear. He guffawed as he swung his bat and walked on the shards of glass. He opens the zipper of his leather jacket, ignoring the yelps of the staff of the hotel. He pulls out a thick black book, with skull carvings on its cover. This is the Death Book, the list of humans who are destined to die. But he is not here to act as a grim reaper; he is here to act like a murderer. He flips the pages and hides them back in his jacket. A purple orb flew above him, leaving a trail of purple glitters. The orb sliced itself into two, making a Pacman with a purple color.