The Thrill Of A Kill Novels & Stories

Noise of jubilation rose from the sitting room as hands were punched in the air. Jack picked Alissa up and spun her round. “You did it!” He let her go. She looked around, not truly believing it. “What’s the Ceremony of Týr?” She racked her brains thinking of her history lessons “The Ceremony of- that's one of the death penalties.” She looked up at everyone. Jack nodded at her, “That's what you wanted. You were about ready to kill him yourself a few days ago.”

"She called for help, and not only did I hang up on her, but I also mocked her for pulling petty tricks like this." He was shaking violently. "I killed her, Chris. I was the one who sealed her fate with my own two hands." Throat tight with grief, Chris could only hold him closer. After all, any words seemed pale and powerless in the face of such truth and despair. After what felt like an eternity, Connor gradually stopped trembling. He pushed Chris away and staggered to his feet. His face wore an eerie, almost unnatural calm. He took off the uniform jacket that symbolized his role as a patrol officer and draped it gently and carefully over my mutilated body.

Ofcourse he knows the drill. "Steph. Why don’t you try? Or let us"! Max said and I looked at him. What does he mean by it. "Ummm. You think it will work"? Stephen was confused. "I can try anything that doesn’t smell this gross". I said looking at him and he looked back at me. "You sure Callum "? "Ofcourse. Please get this pain over". I held my throat again, licking my dry lips. "Okay". He looked at me and bit his palm. Like really hard. The blood was dripping down. And for the first time I felt a light stinging in my eyes in anticipation. I wanted it. I wanted it sooo bad.

and the ultimate thrill. Still holding his gaze, I maintained my stance, fighting the tremor in my hands by planting them flat on the cold mahogany surface. “I live for the danger...and the thrill, Victor,” I retorted, the words laced with a teasing, defiant quality. “Besides, a little scab never hurt no one.” A slow, vicious smile spread across Victor’s face, turning him instantly into a vicious predator who had just been given permission to feed. It wasn't charming; it was lethal.

Even the mere sight of these fuels me with more adrenaline. While a lot of people in the Mafia world see killing as something they are obliged to do, something they can’t escape. I do genuinely enjoy having blood on my hands. The sight of blood, the art of torture, and the act of killing. All these are something that give me a twisted sense of satisfaction. After picking a sickle, I spin it between my fingers as I turn around, catching the man instantly freezing and turning pale. The fear shining in his eyes explodes into terror, tracking my footsteps toward him.

That for the third time in a row, in this god forsaken killing game, where no one can make it out alive, I had to kill the person who killed Risa.

o kaya bigla bigla nalang akong pugutan nito walang thrill naman yung kung ganun dapat may thrill para mas masaya! "Dyan kalang jiroh bibili lng ako ng pagkain haha!"Tumawa pa sya ng parang baliw!Nawawala na ata talaga toh sa pagiisip nya ipukpok ko kaya yung ulo nya sa manibela para matauhan man lang?Kung ano man kinakagalit nito sabihin nya hindi yung tinitira nya ako patalikod king inang yan hindi sya patas lumaban!

My Tourette’s again. THEM is an acronym. It stands for: Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers. It was a lucky thing for me that THEM found me before the cops did, otherwise I probably would have been put in the shock chair—or worse, a padded room—years ago. THEM is a very selective—and very secret—organization specializing in Murder For Hire. Everything from Assassins to PSK’s, and a few other specialties in between. Through their shady connections to the Government, THEM offered me a deal—the same deal they offer all their recruits: I work for THEM as a PSK, and THEM will have my record completely expunged and I will be immune from any prosecution for the remainder of my life. The catch,

She felt her stupid heart flutter as the light caught his ebony curls, turning it to burnished gold, his green orbs twinkling with delight as he practically charmed the socks of his latest prey. Suddenly, as if feeling her gaze on him, his eyes snapped to hers, their gazes meeting. Marco Vitale's gorgeous eyes, usually alight with cunning, darkened with genuine hunger as he caught sight of her. He bit his lip and immediately flame licked down her spine. Dismissing his quarry like a child would their toy, he moved through the throng of guests – politicians, businessmen, and the shadowed figures that comprised their world – with a predator's grace, his focus solely on her.

“Don’t let them see you drift off.” “I’m not drifting,” I said, keeping my voice low. “I’m watching. Every twitch. Every step. Especially him.” I didn’t need to point. Elias knew who I meant. The one who called himself Medor Thornwell. He was too smooth, too clean for an exile. Every movement of his tonight had been too controlled. I watched the way he fought Marcus—fast, precise, like someone who’d been trained to kill in silence. Not someone who’d been banished and left to rot.