Thriller Teller Novels & Stories

"I swear it. I've given you everything I have. I haven't contacted Noctyros since I walked through that door." "Well, according to the timestamp," Thalrion says. "You were in transit." "Then how?" Caius asks. "The only remaining leak is the designation court clerk," Thalrion says. "Different one from the previous leak. Noctyros layers his methods." He is already on his phone. "The photographer was hired through a shell account. Freelance. He doesn't know who he's working for." He reads something on the screen. "Bryn's team has him. He's being released, he's not a threat."

Susanne felt somewhat embarrassed, avoiding eye contact. She thought the bank card had a meager balance, which was why the teller was so disinterested. "Yes, please." However, the teller became increasingly nervous, clutching the card as though it were a priceless treasure. Finally, she managed to mutter, "P—Please wait for a moment." After that, she rushed to the back office, leaving Susanne bewildered at the counter. Without even knocking on the door, the teller burst into the office of the bank's general manager, Jamie Bidner. She was visibly out of breath as she exclaimed, "Mister Bidner, s—something crazy just happened!"

“Because I’m good at my job.” I held her gaze. “Who is he.” She didn’t miss the shift. I wasn’t asking if. I was asking who. “Roger Teller,” she said. The name hit a file in my head immediately. Not because I’d met him. Because Elias had mentioned it once, months ago, in the context of “humans we don’t worry about.” I kept my face neutral. “And he’s discreet?” “He’s discreet,” Jordan confirmed. “He’s licensed. He’s careful. And he works with me on half my cases. Which means he trusts my judgment and he won’t freelance.”

Among the many cheering and surprised comments, I saw a photo of a guy who I just couldn’t run away from lately. “This is the guy I am offering for a month now. Say ‘yes’ already.” No_joker had written, and he attached a photo of the rich prick who was on TV last night, the same one with who I had a fight with in the parking lot of the new Mall. “Yeah, I saw him talking like he is some kind of God, providing for those who can’t afford health care.” Snooze commented on the picture. “Let’s give him to her. Can she reach out that high?” An anonymous person had written.

Ian asked, obviously skeptical. “I see I played my part perfectly. You all think I’m the innocent victim of the evil Betrayer,” I told him. “God, have none of you stopped to think that I enjoyed the killing? The truth is if this doesn’t end with you killing me, I’m afraid of what I might do to get back the high killing gave me.” *Desi what are you doing,* Balric asked, sounding worried. *Don’t worry I got this.* My grin grew.

How he got past the door, I don’t understand. He hands me a phone. “Those were the screenshots taken from the first blog post about the sex tape. The next is a conversation I had with its owners yesterday. Apparently, they were tipped anonymously—not strange when you plan on pulling off shit like this. But there’s a catch: the tipper didn’t want money, which means personal vendetta,” my informant, who calls himself X, says carefully. There’s a suspenseful pause. I feel his stare follow me cautiously, but I maintain my poker-faced expression and clear my throat.

Fading felt like slipping into a room where lights never turn on again. Yet someone had killed me. Still, it was true. Systematically. Those who caused it remained at large inside that house. Her eyes moved slowly across my features. A pause came before she spoke again. “Are you in danger now?” she asked. Her gaze caught mine. “Yes. But I’m not the same woman they killed before.” One slow dip of her head, thoughts running deeper than words showed. “I can provide a full report with supporting medical literature. Destroy it after you read it. And be extremely careful. Thallium isn’t the kind of poison amateurs use. Whoever ordered this knew exactly what they were doing.”

I whispered out, my finger hovering over the screen as I tried to take in what I had just read, but it was like I had a block in my head, not finding the quickest breakdown to that. Me: What do you mean? The reply wasn't fast this time. Anonymous: He would threaten his victims not to say a word, and if they do, he finds ways to shut them down... I would send a video shortly, River. I waited in shallow breaths. Why the curiosity now? I was determined to get through with this contract no matter what happened—it was too late. Would he even let me go with whatever I found out about him, or would I threaten him with whatever this was about? There were plenty of red lights, and each time, it kept

Doubt only needed a crack. Because a script could still be true. That was the thing that ate me alive in the car home, forehead against the cold window, Naomi silent and watchful in the front seat. A coached witness could still be pointing at a real killer. Someone could hand Tasha lines to say and the lines could describe something that actually happened. The tell told me only that my mother was being used. It told me nothing about whether the thing my mother had been sent to say was true. And now I couldn't look at Malik without the story running underneath him like a second track, a subtitle I couldn't turn off.

PARKER “I was a kid,” Harrison says, voice low. “And I’ve paid you back with interest. You don’t own me. Back off, or we will end this in ways you can’t take back.” “You think you can threaten me with your lies?” she hisses. “Pathetic.” “No,” Harrison says. “With the truth. You’ve been playing dirty for decades. Leaking stories, covering up crimes, blackmailing rivals. And we’re done letting you hide.”