Thriller Novels & Stories

These actions cannot be explained, Navpreet,’ said the inspector gloomily, casting an eye on the mountains. The sub-inspector gave a stiff nod and carefully studied the inspector who seemed to be lost in contemplation. ‘From what I have seen, murders are of two types,’ said the inspector, the tips of his fingers coming together. ‘First are the unplanned ones, committed by people who were suffocated in some way by the acts of the would-be victims. When they see an opportunity, their fear is eclipsed by the pain they have suffered and they strike.’

But still, the truth will pierce you and will drill deep into your mind, slipping through your thoughts. Serra felt like her heart shrank into the size of an atom, lost and then gone as the truth hit her like a poisoned arrow, painful and torturous. Mira is a Badblood. Mira is a Badblood. Mira is a Badblood. Her mind repeats. Should she be scared? Mira is a Badblood. Should she hate her? She's a monster. Her kind killed your father, a voice inside her said. She's your friend and will never hurt you, another voice inside her said. She just stood there confused and unmoving. She felt a lump on her throat and her eyes started to blur.

I can’t go wrong he’s really familiar. “Kill her dude! I think she recognized you already.” Said by the other guy who’s continuously kicking my husband on his back. The familiar guy gradually pointed his gun at me. They say that our body reacts in a three different way on how we felt our environment specially when it smells something dangerous is going to happened. We think of fighting even if we really can't, but sometimes we allso felt to flight the moment when we saw that we are outnumbered. And the last one but not very common is freezing.

She would be near family and away from the judging eyes of Glenville, Iowa. She turned her computer off and went to bed. She dreamt she had moved to a new city that had merged all five cities into one with the townsfolk of Glenville following her everywhere pointing and whispering ‘murderer.' She found herself in that room that she tried so hard not to remember. She was surrounded by blood and three dead faceless bodies with gunshots. She heard herself screaming even though she hadn't actually screamed at the time. The blood kept pouring out of the bodies where the gunshots were and began filling the room. The blood was pouring and pouring out, and she watched in horror as the puddle grew un

said the young woman with a cold smirk on her lips, the innocent and fragile look from moments earlier, disappearing. Hollander felt shivers run down his spine at this. She was no innocent princess but a trained assassin, trained to use her body and pretty face to get close to her unsuspecting target. The silver scarf around the young woman’s neck came undone just then, and Hollander’s eyes widened as he saw the tattoo of a black butterfly on the left side of her neck. And as he glanced down at the hand currently closed around the gun pointing at his chest, he saw the bracelet around her right wrist, a black chain looped three times, from which a silver crescent moon pendant with the Roman n

I reunited with my ex-husband for the first time in six years in a courtroom. He sat on the bench, while I stood in the dock as a murder defendant. The moment Tristan Hodges recognized my face, his eyes widened in shock. "You're… Sabrina?" His reaction did not surprise me. After all, who could have imagined that Sabrina Westbrook, the woman who used to burst into tears at the sight of a cockroach, and Hope Westbrook, the serial killer who had murdered five people, were one and the same? Tristan's eyes turned bloodshot, and his teeth ground together with barely contained fury. "Six years. Five lives. Five families broken forever… Sabrina Westbrook, how could you bring yourself to do it?"

yours: The ripper After reading, Valeria froze a cry of terror. She was livid and on the verge of nervous shock. She read the mail over and over again, in a vain attempt to avoid confusing reality with nightmare. What kind of murderous maniac did Valeria have to deal with? A ripper? There was no doubt! The first images of the movie "snuff" were eloquent: brutal, gloomy, chilling. Why more denominators? A less sensationalist newspaper than “La Noticia” would have thought that that tabloid film turned out to be an attack against good taste. A closed shot of the film showed the image of the fingers with the victim's fingerprints to verify that it was the same doctor – This was later demonstrat

Couldn't stop seeing his face when he'd said"this one is dangerous" A minute passed. Five. Ten. Then she heard it. Footsteps on gravel. A door opening somewhere in the dark. Muffled voices— too low to make out the words. Then a pause. And Three gunshots. She clamped her hand over her mouth to keep from screaming. Silence. Minutes that felt like hours. Then the driver's door opened. He slid into the seat. His hands were steady. His face was unreadable. But there was fresh blood on his shirt— not his, she could tell now, the way he moved, no wince— and his knuckles were raw.

The thrill of knowing every intimate detail about someone before they even realize they’re being watched—that’s where the power lies. My victims are chosen with precision. There’s no randomness to it, no impulsive picks. Most of the time, I don’t even need to touch them. The true thrill comes from the psychological torment. Watching them unravel, seeing the fear in their eyes when they notice the small, seemingly innocent changes in their home. That coffee cup moved slightly. The window that wasn’t open yesterday, but now is. The sense of being watched without proof—it’s better than any physical violence.

He said like some chaotic deranged bastard. "First of all, I'm no bitch, I'm a fucking assassin. Secondly," I responded while opening his mouth "I pay with the blood of others not mine" and with that, I cocked the gun, realizing the bullet down his throat. I peeled his blood off my face and licked it. I could feel his gagging on my gun in fear before I pulled the trigger. Bunch of freaks.