Thriller Killer Novels & Stories

The look he shoots Kalix sends a chill down my spine. Yes, ME, a girl who once had an encounter with an Italian Mafia Don during a trip back in the motherland... don't ask, just use it as context here. "So, you brought her here?!" Max lashes out at Kalix. "The cause of all this chaos in the first place?!" Hold on a second. Did he just say I'm responsible for something I have absolutely no clue about? My slayer senses are telling me you're about to explode... You're damn right I am!

No one knows how these mysterious killings brought about by a veiled creature began. Some of the people interviewed by Mark in the past admit that such a being is just a myth, it only exists in one's wild imagination. Yet he believes otherwise. He is a victim of the handiwork of the manananggal. He became an unwilling orphan at a young age because of it. He vowed on the grave of his parents that he will leave no stone unturned in searching for their killer.

He looked like the wind was knocked out of him and I nodded once, turning the gun on the person behind me and shooting them in an instant. Nobody likes a snitch. Turning the gun on Timothy, his hands shook as he placed them together. "Please! Don't kill me! He isn't dea-" A bullet went into the side of his head and I looked up, seeing as the doors were now opened and Thorne stood in the doorway with a group of men. "Didn't think you'd crash a party without me." He said, walking further into the room and I didn't put my gun away. I knew what this was.

She felt as if someone was behind her. So every slowly with trembling figure she turned around. Her eyes widen and fear flashed in them when she saw the hooded killer standing right in front of her eyes. She opened her mouth to yell and call for help but her voice got caught in her throat. Her lips trembled. “SSSHHH!!!!!!!” The killer said putting his gloved finger over his masked lips, with a sudden strike the big silver knife came slitting Arelette’s throat. Her blood splashed on him and on the canvas behind her as her lifeless body fell on the ground. The last sparkle of light lefy her eyes with a lone tear.

He said I was his one true love, yet he was threatening me. ‘Billy, I came here because I wanted to let you know that I am ready to go to Mozambique. If you have those documents, please just help me out.’ ‘Oh Mozambique, I almost forgot about that. Mozambique will have to wait baby, you are still hot-blooded right now. You still have the killer instinct. I can’t let you go there and you start killing more people.’ ‘But I won’t do that. I am not some retarded serial killer who is out for blood.’

None of them had gotten it right. The real thing standing in my doorway, catching the light from my hall lamp was something else entirely. It was not costume. It was not theater. It was a specific, intentional, centuries-old object, and it was being worn by a man who had chosen it the way a man chooses a signature. The Verdict Killer was standing in my living room. I want to be precise about what that meant. Because if you live outside this city, or if you don’t read the tabloids, or if you don’t listen to the podcasts — you might think he was just one more name on one more news cycle.

The drainer must know the victim's name and face and heart. "The killer knows his victims," I said. "He has to. The ritual won't work otherwise." She looked up at me and her eyes were dark. "The victims were all wolves. Young. Strong. On patrol." "The killer is targeting the patrols." "The killer is someone who knows the patrol schedules." Cressida's face went pale and her hand went to her chest. "Someone inside the academy." I stood and crossed to the door and opened it and Kade was in the corridor. His arms were crossed and his face was tired and his eyes were shadowed.

“Jessica’s crazy, but she’s not murderous crazy. And she doesn’t have that kind of cash. That’s why she wants me back.” Keira whistled. “Nice to be wanted for your wallet.” “Then who?” Blair needed to know this was her life on the line. “That’s what we’re going to find out,” Peters said. “I’ve got people tracking Kellner’s finances, looking for the source of his payment. Professional killers usually get paid through intermediaries, but there’s always a trail.” “How long will that take?” Keira asked. “Could be days. Could be weeks. Depends on how careful they were,” Peters told them all.

"Don't come anywhere close to me" Ava took a step backward sobbing, she thought he was going to turn his back and leave, but her hope shattered when he took another step towards her. Ava had seen his profile and she had decided not to have anything to do with him. Don Drexel Mason popularly known as the snitch killer or the grim reaper, is the most dreaded Mafia Assassin in the underworld, not just in that country he was known all over the underworld in the whole continents.

She shrugs and says, “There's nothing much to say. Do Sejin believes that the killer had known me since I was a few months old. The killer must be a neighbourhood boy who moved away when he was young. He wrote those words behind the photos he had taken of me." "He should be around forty and his height is about 6'1''. You must have seen him on the surveillance videos," Do Sejin tells him. "He likes reading philosophy. He met Noe Kyung Hee at the library. We have some grasp of his personality. He must be someone good with technology, explosives, and chemicals. He is someone who knows how to remove his traces. He must belong to the upper side of the society if he can manage so much." Their idea