Thriller Killer Novels & Stories

Stralath asked. "Yes." Coco pointed at more files on her desk. "We've had our hands full lately. First, dealing with Bobby's victims, and then the vibrio or fisheri who has packaged his siren toxin in an injection form. And now it seems we have a third killer who might be a serial offender." "Is Bobby still under surveillance?" Coco nodded. Stralath tapped the file. "This human is reckless—he beats and strangles his victims, and his method speaks of rage."

Whoever has taken her, doesn’t have the slightest ideia of the carnage I’ll be capable of doing if they touch a hair out of my woman’s head. “Fuck, when I find who did this, I’ll rip off very slowly the members of the mother fucker who dared touch my woman.” Hunter holds me by the arm, worried to see me so disturbed. “Adam, you have to calm down otherwise it can be worse for her.” “Fucking calm, Hunter. I’ll kill the bastard, very slow and no one will stop me, you can be sure of that. I only have three suspects: the two feds and the miserable Igor Kedrak.”

The atmosphere hung heavily in the room and I noticed tentative half-smiles amid a general dislike of such melodrama. “The organisational skills and methodology of the killer suggests military training,” I said, feeling myself shaking. I kept my voice flat and cold, saying the things I didn’t like saying that had to be said. “They used a specially adapted Winchester rifle.” Total silence and blank, uncomprehending expressions.

I couldn't help but smile when I noticed he was also covered in blood. "GONZALEZ!" Hunter shouted in sheer anger. I shared a look with Silvio as we saw Javier run down the hallway to Hunter's office. After several moments, I watched Javier grab a medical kit before going downstairs to the cells. I felt my nose flare in annoyance. Hunter has never cared about any of his victims before. I thought Hunter would've been pissed enough to kill Sienna. So why wasn't she dead? If Sienna was alive, then that only meant one thing. Hunter was holding back. He hasn't fully given in to Sienna being a traitor. It's clear that I need to push him over the edge before it's too late.

1 SABRINA The first time I killed someone, I was seventeen. He was a politician who promised hope to a broken city but sold its secrets to the highest bidder. My handler called him “a necessary evil.” He liked to use those words, justifying what we did as if we were saving the world. But I knew better. There was nothing noble about this work. It was bloody, messy, and merciless. I’d watched my target for weeks, memorizing his every move.

"You lying bitch! Still denying the truth, even at death's door? "I have surveillance video of you killing her, bragging about being some big internet celebrity, Anna Anderson! If it's not you, then who is it?" Emma chimed in from the side, "Anna, if you did something wrong, just admit it. You know what they say. It's never too late to do the right thing." Just when everyone was certain that I was the killer, I looked at Emma, who was secretly gloating nearby, and asked, "Emma, what are you talking about? You're the one who's always lived in this apartment. What does anything that happened here have to do with me?"

“Three shots. All to the heart. Clean, precise hits.” Alejandro stared at the photos, his hands slowly tightening. “The killer was positioned in a nearby building overlooking the church,” Silva said. “Professional work. Military-level accuracy.” Alejandro’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Who did it?” “That’s the hard part,” Silva replied. He pulled out more documents and spread them across the desk. “It took months, but I tracked down the sniper. Former special forces. Now he works for a private assassination network in Eastern Europe.”

I asked him. “Your room,” he answered promptly. “My room?” I echoed. “Your room.” I chuckled. “That is impossible,” I said, “why would he keep trophies of his killings in my room?” “They are not bizarre items,” he said, “he does not dabble in body parts.” “What?” John smiled. “He's a rather sophisticated killer,” replied John, “his killings depend on the fact that he is not suspected at all.” “And why would you think that he would keep trophies in my room?” I asked him.

“I need to think. I need to clear my head.” He didn’t stop me. He didn’t say a word. My heart was still pounding. My mind kept replaying the man’s scream—the sound of his bones snapping, the blood spilling across the floor. I rushed into the bathroom and threw up. No, Damon didn’t scare me. He disgusted me. But he would soon know heartbreak—the kind that burns and breaks your soul. I already knew my killer. Jessica Williams. And Damon was already hunting her. My plan had begun.

“Killer’s hard to figure out. But you know as well as the rest of us...he’s been watching you like a hawk. I don’t know his backstory, but I know he fucking hates women. Still... he’s interested in you. Don’t ask me why. Hell, don’t ask him why... he probably doesn’t even understand what’s happening to himself.” Wilhelm laughs and nods in agreement. “Beware of the madman,” he jokes. I smack his arm and lean back into the smooth leather, focusing on the next episode of Mindhunter. x-x-x-x-x • Killer • I’ve been pissed off all week, and I keep denying the reason. It’s not because that girl is gone. No way it’s her fault. I’m pissed that those pussy-ass Road Riders had the balls to shoot at my