Thriller Narrator Novels & Stories

“Hard to miss, really. Dead body, tense atmosphere, you pointing a gun at me. Whole thing is very clear. HAHA.” Quinn took a step closer, her grip steady, her expression unreadable as she studied him more carefully now. He wasn’t as composed as she had first thought. “Let’s try this again,” she said. “Why are you here?” He let out a short breath, almost a laugh, but there was an edge to it. “I told you, my name is Damian. I heard about the case and got curious.” “That’s not enough.” Quinn replied. “I know, I know,” he said quickly, nodding like he was trying to keep up with his own thoughts. “It sounds bad. Random guy shows up, stands near a dead body, refuses to explain himself. I get it. N

Making sure no one sees me nor hears my evil laugh. “Miss Jen, what are her last words before going out?” the investigator asked. Jen cleared her throat and exhaled heavily before answering the question. “She told me that she is going to meet here someone named Joshua,” she answered. “Who is Joshua?” asked one of my classmates. The investigator raised his palm stopping him from questioning. “I should be the one asking her. Do not meddle,” the investigator said. His name is Mr. Scott. I just saw it in his badge to his chest. “So, who’s Joshua?”

There was no denying that he possessed the potential to be a formidable asset in our pursuit of the truth. His eyes met mine, sharp and observant, as he began to recount the events of his surveillance. His report would provide the missing puzzle pieces, shedding light on Natalia's elusive movements and the secrets she held within her clandestine world. I leaned forward, my gaze unwavering, as Rhys painted a vivid picture of the shadows he had trailed, the whispers he had caught, and the subtle hints of intrigue he had unraveled.

Not for a long time. Why is this happening? Tears began sliding down my cheeks as I prayed that it was empty, that all the bodies inside were dead. My hand shook as I reached out and slid my card through the reader, then entered in the six-digit code. There was no pause in his stride as he entered, only a cool, deadly killer. Meticulous. Three snaps. Cheryl. Dr. Mitchell. Micah. They all slumped to the ground. My stomach dropped. An explosion of screams was held in by the coiling suffocation around my chest. Squeezing. Choking.

The rush of speed mixed with terror made the experience thrilling. The mix of fear and speed had made the experience thrilling. Eliana's gasps were ragged. The message was clear. Business was over. Nathaniel sat in his dimly lit office, city lights casting shadows on his desk. He spun his whiskey glass, waiting. A knock. Then the door creaked open. A man came in. Dressed in black, his face expressionless. Nathaniel leaned back. "You handled it?" The man nodded. "Warning shot. Nothing more."

She whispered to me in a hushed voice like she was afraid of carrying on with the conversation in a loud voice so that everyone would be able to hear what we were discussing. Could that have been it? Could it have been that something bad happened to Nathaniel just as Luna Lisa thought? Maybe the police finally caught up with the man and had him arrested? Or he got sober long enough to realize that what he was doing was wrong? I shook my head in denial. Nope, that was not it. Even if either of those had happened, the private investigator would be trying to do everything he could to let me know about the new situation at hand. But he was doing the complete opposite of that.

“Please, do tell me about how you escaped today.” “Killian and I were both chained to a chair till morning. The hunter came out of his room and decided it was time to die. As he lifted his pistol, he saw Rhett standing before him. He got frightened and started stuttering. Trust me, it was fun watching the hunter become afraid. Rhett stood tall and bold before him. The hunter pointed the gun to Rhett’s chest and pulled the trigger, but the gun was empty. He begged for mercy, but Rhett heeded no concern for he had waited for this moment for a long time. Rhett took him by the neck, lifted him into the air and snapped his neck, the hunter’s lifeless body sank to the floor and we all came back ho

He scurried into the van, leaving a set of shell shocked vamps in his wake. __________________________ “Fuck!” I throw my head back and take a deep breathe as we drive back to the office. My hand shakes as I bring it to my cover my mouth. “I just killed someone.” My whisper of disbelief is distant to my ringing ears. “I just murdered someone.” __________________________ I’m slumped against the elevator glass on the way up to Roy’s floor. “You killed the most notorious assassin in the city.” Milo says shocked from beside me. “To be fair, he made it rather easy.” My voice is steadier than I thought it would be. Almost normal.

my voice low and menacing. The figure struggles, but I tighten my grip. "Tell me!" I shout. The mask slips, revealing a young, terrified face. "I-I don't know," the figure stammers. I glare, searching for any hint of deception. "Who hired you?" I press. The figure shakes its head. "I swear, I don't know! I was just paid to—" A sudden flash of realization crosses their face. "No, please! Don't—" My grip tightens, but the figure's words are cut short. A silenced gunshot echoes through the alley, and the figure slumps, lifeless.

His son Nikolai is beside him, pale and sweating, his eyes darting around the courtroom like a trapped animal. The prosecutor calls witness after witness. The drivers who survived the attack. The security guards who found me in the bunker. The doctors who treated my injuries. Each one tells the same story. Kier Thornwell is a monster. Kier Thornwell tried to kill me. Kier Thornwell belongs in prison. Kier objects. He shouts. He waves his arms. The judge bangs her gavel and tells him to sit down. He does not sit down. * * LYSANDER'S POV: