The Perfect Assassin Novels & Stories

“Ah, dear niece, so this is what an average day in the life looks like… waltzing with your kill and staring right into their eyes right before you snuff the light out of it… brilliant!” It was obvious he wanted a reaction out of her, and on a very good day, he would have gotten nothing, but today wasn’t exactly going as planned for the plus-sized assassin. Barbara moved with a speed that would have stunned the girl she used to be. In one fluid motion, she was behind him. She didn't bother shedding the server's jacket; she simply reached beneath it. The cold steel of a ceramic knife was pressed firmly against the pulse point of his neck before he could say another word.

He bit his bottom lip, lowering his arms to his sides and glancing towards his palms before asking, "What is it? Y-You...you don't like what you see?" Nate had not spoken yet, gulping when he saw Dante's fingers drop the knife beside him and reach for the next button on his dress shirt. When Nate realized what he was doing, he instinctively leaned downwards, his mind completely pushing away the assassin murderous rumours and all the threats Dante had mentioned, instead reaching for his hands and stopping him from continuing down the placket. "What the fuck are you doing?" Nate pushed his hands away, closing the other buttons as well and hiding the chain back into his shirt.

I thought I could handle this on my own, thought I could bring Zephyr back without assistance because I’m her mate, but it's not enough. “Did you see the person? Did you see the assassin?” Avani snarls. I look at him, knowing this will hurt him nearly as much as it hurts me. “It’s Zephyr, Avani. She’s the assassin.” He falls back on his butt. “What? Are you sure?” he asks. I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why would she do this? Why would she kill these shifters?” Cedric asks. “They got to her,” Avani says as realization dawns on him and he looks at me. He and I have worked together long enough. We understand each other without words.

He scaled the rocks with the precision of a ghost moving through the shadows like water. I watched from my private satellite feed , the high-resolution images flickering across my laptop like a cursed movie. He entered through the back—exactly as I planned. He was good. Ex-KGB. Disavowed and disillusioned. Just how I liked them. And he had been paid and tipped too because money wasn't the problem and I had gotten the best. Sarian appeared near the window, her silhouette etched against the soft island light. She looked peaceful, vulnerable and fucking . Maybe that was why Don Julio had loved her because he loves his women vulnerable and perfect.The assassin raised his silenced pistol took aim

Skyla The silence after my surrender was worse than the gunfire. Engines idled. Radios crackled and hissed. The hunters stood frozen in a half-circle, waiting. I could feel Ed trembling beside me. I could even hear Xavier’s ragged breath, but no one moved. Not until the black SUV at the centre of the convoy gave a low, smooth click, and its rear door swung open. And he stepped out. Carl freaking Anderson.

I stood behind Claire, aimed at her neck, and raised the knife. The comments went crazy. [Holy shit! What am I seeing?!] [This has to be edited, right?] [What is going on? Am I hallucinating?]

For them, bliss was equivalent to no b*tchy-asses trying to put you six feet under the ground. Zion took a bite out of the brownies and pressed a button on the laptop and on the projector screen several blurry pictures of a woman figure, which were probably taken from a distance appeared, "...that's the places she last appeared. Killed thirteen burly guys without even sweating. Quite secretive and purely professional. A sexy assassin with surprises" "Not-so-Gentlemen, I present to you, black swan!" Then he pressed another button and played a blurry clip of a woman, killing men with knife and blades. In less than fourteen seconds she killed thirteen men without even her breath getting uneven.

Each word dripped with venom and thrill. “Yes,” the assassin confirmed, a faint smile hidden beneath his hood. Mira’s dark smile deepened. The air around her seemed to thicken as she whispered, “Perfect.” Her tone was soft, yet the room seemed to darken with the sound of it. She shut the case with a quiet click and straightened. “Leave me,” she said finally, her tone smooth but heavy with command. The assassin bowed once more deep, silent and final, then he turned. Within seconds, his form melted into the shadows, dissolving as if he’d never been there at all.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her gaze turning to pure adoration as she looked at Ashton. He was like a god. "Kill him! Kill him!" Angry shouts edged with terror rose from the darkness. More and more assassins lunged at Ashton, throwing everything they had into trying to take him down. However, they were only rushing to their deaths. No one could remain standing under that long blade in his hand. Even an SS-ranked expert took only one strike to take out. There was blood everywhere. As time passed, the severed heads on the floor grew in number, while fewer assassins dared to charge Ashton. At long last, none remained who would raise a hand against him.

Master Edwin approached with arrangements for the evening's final course when death materialized from shadow without warning. The assassin appeared from what had seemed like empty air behind Xalara's chair—not stepping from concealment, but simply existing where nothing had been moments before. A woman whose movement flowed like liquid darkness given form and lethal purpose, her blade already descending toward its target with the kind of supernatural speed that eliminated any possibility of conventional response. Perfect technique. Flawless execution. Professional elimination conducted with the precision that spoke of successful kills across multiple kingdoms. Except that when death should h