The Murder Inc Story Novels & Stories

The man pushed Mason, left his wheelchair next to where I was standing, and went to sit down with Dante. "I’ll have a Bloody Mary; it’s very bloody in here," the man said as he looked at Dante and smiled. Then the two men were staring at my pathetic self. The police arrived just as I was about to run away from the scene, and they caught me before I could get away. Blood. Blood was everywhere, and I began to regret my actions. Dante played me; he knew I was obsessed with him and knew how far I would go for him. He made me kill. I tried to run, but I was too late; the police had already arrived. "Candice Murray, you are under arrest for the murder of June Blackwood, for a conspiracy against Mr

Letting out a growl she runs to the area, the bricked walls not so high but in the height where a human cannot climb, she walks in, the interior is the walls of separate rooms in different heights, where some are short one wall and some are two, typically like a maze. Cautiously she tramples across the bare land, her eyes catching every corner. Her movements stop, she steps back leaning on to the large wall...The sound of footsteps get closer... She jumps forward when a familiar man comes to her view, the man who murdered Philips's son, she read through the files in Mintz’s office to find out whether Mintz had known about it and as expected he did know, he knows everything behind the AIM’s c

"Oh, here's another one. It says, 'University Chancellor Dr. Howard Pettrack refused to comment on rumors that a female student was the victim of date rape last night. The matter is under investigation.'" "Any murders?" "No, Ruth, no murders. What's with you, all this sudden interest in crime?" "Psych. class," she said. "We're supposed to keep track of the local crimes, so we can discuss them in class. We're on deviant behavior now."

He always carries it with him. Slowly realization dawned upon her. Her hands started to tremble. She understood everything. The murderer was from inside the castle. Always been inside. Always been one of them. Her own blood. Her brother. ‘How could he kill him? His own father?’, she looked imploring at Argus. Tears were streaking silently down her eyes, upon her cheeks onto her lap. Her face was contorted with pain. The death of her father and the betrayal of her brother was too much to handle for her.

My mother, Samantha, believed I was born a liar. Because she was deceived by my father's sweet words in her youth and abandoned after giving birth to me and my sister, Mia, she harbored a deep, bitter hatred for lies. She begged a witch for two magic rings. The rule was simple: if the wearer lied, the ring would glow red and burn them with magic. Mia's ring never hurt her, even when she broke a vase and blamed it on me. But if I simply said, "I'm thirsty," my ring would sear my flesh until I screamed. At first, I tried to defend myself, but Mom would just say, "The ring doesn't lie. Only through repeated punishment can your wicked soul be cleansed." After thousands of burns, even I started t

“Hope that can of Coke isn’t the serial killer, ‘cause you’re squeezin’ it half to death.” I glance down at my tightened knuckles, realizing the metal's crumpling in my grip and I release my clenched fists. I force a weak chuckle, tossing the mangled can aside. “What’s up?” Her smirk fades and she lets out a sigh, as she drops a coin in the vending machine. “There’s been another murder...” My brows shoot up. “Another? Where?” “Under Parkston Bridge. Brutal, this one. It's even worse than the others.”

"The document is for you. Sign it, and I'll spare your life. If you refuse, you'll both go over the edge." Conner remained on his knees, water still dripping all over his body. Floyd continued, "The rules are simple. Both of you will cross at the same time. The walkway is only about a foot wide, and it can't fit two people side by side. Whoever reaches the end first gets what they need. As for the other one…" He didn't finish his sentence, but his chilling murderous intent said it all. The moment Anisa heard "hemostatic medicine", a frantic will to survive flared in her gaze. She actually managed to pull herself up and drag her bleeding body toward the glass walkway step by step.

Normal people who will judge an extraordinary crime. "Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Morrison begins. "This is a case about greed. About a man who married a kind, trusting woman not for love but for money. About a man who murdered his wife six hours after she gave birth to their son. About a man who thought he could get away with it." She pauses for effect. The jury is already riveted.

As the news broadcast reported a random serial killing near my residential complex, I knew—I had been reborn once again. In my first life, my husband insisted on going out in the middle of a snowstorm to buy weapons for self-defense. I locked every door and window, waiting at home, anxiety clawing at my chest. I never imagined the killer could pick locks. Before I could even react, a blade plunged into me, and I died on the couch. In my second life, I didn't hesitate. I hid in a concealed storage room, holding my breath. But the door was still pulled open. A man wearing a rabbit mask stared straight at me. "Found you," he said. In my third life, I ran to the police station. I rushed ins

Peter shook his head in amazement. “That’s really unexpected. He transplanted his own finger, so there was no rejection. But who would think he had eleven fingers? Whenever he left a fingerprint, he just removed that finger. No wonder the prints never matched.” I quickly brought the comparison report to Rebecca and Louis. “The fifteen-year-old murder case is finally solved. Rebecca, we did it.” After hearing my explanation, Rebecca still looked serious. “But what about the two surgeries the doctor mentioned? Why did he kill my parents in the first place?”