Who Wrote Killing Stalking Novels & Stories

She was eavesdropping and she heard us. ‘Oh! My God! I can’t imagine how many people on this block of flats know.’ ‘No, no. She didn’t tell anyone. I promise. I stopped her before she could run to Maureen’s place.’ ‘Did you have to kill her? Have you suddenly developed some killer instinct? What the hell is wrong with you?’ ‘Billy how could you say that? It was an accident.’ ‘What do you expect me to think? You seem to be having a knack for killing nowadays.’

Alissa walked to her dorm room and she lay on her bed. Her heart calmed a bit and she couldn't believe that had just happened. She tried not to panic at all, but she was. So many questions swirled in her head. What did he mean when he said that he would not let her off easily next time? Why did she have to fall? Did he now know that she was the one who had stalked him? Alissa tossed and turned until she fell eventually fell asleep. Alissa's eyes slowly opened, and she found that there was a lot of light streaming in, which meant that she had slept past afternoon.

I knew Stein's mother was Jonas' first wife, but there wasn't much news about her. “He didn't drive a knife into her heart, though, but he killed her slowly.” He smiled sadly. “I've been dying to get my hands on that bastard.” “So…” I bit my lower lip before I made an offer I never thought I would ever make to him. “What do you say? We work together?” Stein stared at me for a long moment before he smiled. “Work together,” he repeated, like he was tasting the words. “You and me against Jonas.”

He tilted her face up to his. "You want to know what you're asking for?" His voice was low, controlled, but she could feel the tension in his fingers."I killed two men tonight. I'll kill more tomorrow. People are going to come looking for me. And if they find you—" He stopped. Swallowed."I don't get to keep things. Every time I've.." She cut him off. Her lips brushed the corner of his mouth—not a kiss, exactly. A question. "I'm not a thing," she whispered.

"Ma'am, stand down. Cooperate with the investigation." Mom’s hand hung in the air, useless. She whirled around to face Dad, desperation bleeding into her voice. "She’s the one who mixed them up, right? You saw it! It wasn't me! I didn't kill her!" Dad didn't even look at her. His vacant eyes were locked entirely on the closet door panel. On those little black thumbprints. Row after row. The detective ordered the property manager to pull up the apartment's security feeds. The smart camera mounted on the living room ceiling was installed by Dad just before Christmas.

"I’m sorry? That sounds a bit dramatic, don't you think?" "Don't play dumb," Jovan interrupted. His voice was low, a dangerous rumble that made Chloe flinch. He didn't look away from her, his dark eyes boring into hers like twin barrels of a gun. "Do you know an Archer Schuyler?" Chloe tilted her head, the picture of practiced innocence. "Archer? The name sounds familiar. Oh, wait. Was that the stalker who caused the scene yesterday? Why would I know him, Jovan?" She shot me a look of pure, unadulterated vitriol.

“Yo, what the fuck is this, Brix?” I aim the gun below his waist, knowing that anything above is classified as attempted murder, and I'm not trying to take a charge for that. “I fucking warned you to stay the fuck out of my shit with my little bird, didn't I?” “She was bound to find out that you were fucking stalking her. All I fucking did was speed up the heartbreak.” “Oh, you think this shit is funny?” Aiming at his knee, I fire my gun and watch him collapse to the pavement, hollering at the top of his lungs as the bullet pierces right through his flesh.

Iliana’s POV: My eyes snapped open. A scream erupted in the air. It wasn’t his. It was mine. He, on the other hand, was utterly and eerily silent. Not even a scream, not even a hiss. He was standing still as if the last few minutes never happened. I had stabbed him. I had stabbed my stalker. Oh God, what the fuck did I do. Why did I do it? How could I kill a living being?

no one has the right to think that way about her. "records" I shouted and My secretary handed me a document which had all his information, molested a teen, Reported stalking girls at night, harassed a school going girl, Raped a girl. "How the hell are you freely wondering after so many crimes?" I Shouted and Fired the gun on his head. "You no longer will." I walked out of the basement and walked upstairs towards my room. I threw my body on the bed and stared at the ceiling. - I feel better after killing that criminal.

His featureless face was calm, his hands empty, but his posture was that of a man who knew the fight was already over. “Mr. Rogers,” the man said, his voice a bland, neutral tenor. “A valiant, predictable effort. The aquatic distraction. The service entrance. Mr. Stalker’s signature is all over it.” Anton’s heart hammered against his ribs. The drive continued to pulse, a tiny, hopeful heartbeat in the face of the killer’s void. “He miscalculated,” the killer continued, taking a step forward. “He thinks like an operative. I think like a custodian. I clean the house. I don’t guard the front door.”