Without Remorse Tom Clancy Novels & Stories

“The kind of creatures that ruin this world. Weak ones. Contaminated ones. What I did wasn’t murder… it was justice.” “Justice!” I said with a scoff. “Yes, Blake. It was justice.” he said, his voice sounding so cold. Opening my mouth to say something, I closed it without, swallowing hard, my heart was pounding. My teeth were clenched so tight my jaw ached. I could feel the tears gathering at the edges of my eyes, hot and unwelcome, not from sadness, but from rage. He had no remorse, not even a shred of it. And he had no pity for the people he had ended, not even for me.

" She looked at Caleb with righteous indignation. "Even if he accidentally kicked Dad's body into the garbage, wasn't he helping clean up? "He already knows he was wrong. Why shouldn't he be forgiven?" Caleb was spitting and urinating on the body that had just been retrieved. I stared at Vivian in disbelief. I genuinely thought something in her mind had broken. An obvious act of desecration had somehow become "helping" in her mouth. Where was the Vivian Stone who once spent five years stuck in a basic post because she refused bribes and insisted on a doctor's principles?

“But I will avenge him. His bitch of a wife got pregnant before she abandoned and betrayed him. Then your brutal American sniper ended him ignominiously in some seedy part of town. And no one has done a thing about it. I know what my brother did for a living. I know he was no saint. But he was my brother. And I loved him. Since no one else in his organization intends to seize retribution, I will.” “Then what? Even if you succeed in killing Colt, do you think he doesn’t have friends? Do you think they or the police will let you walk free?” Clara turns bleak eyes my way. “I will have turned the gun on myself long before then. I have nothing more to live for.”

I stood there staring at a man I’d spent twenty-nine years trying to earn approval from, understanding for the first time with absolute, sickening clarity that he wasn’t simply ruthless in business the way I’d always excused it as being. He was a man who ordered murder and called it necessity. “Get out of my office,” I said quietly. “Declan…” “Get out.” He left without another word, and I stood there long after the door closed behind him, my hands braced against the desk, trying to reconcile twenty-nine years of believing my grandfather was simply hard, simply strategic, simply a product of a ruthless world, with the man who had just admitted, in his own careful language, to ordering a woman

The remorse arrives like high tide—slowly at first, then all at once. It isn’t immediate. In the first few minutes after Declan leaves the room to check something with Conor, there is only the heavy silence of the mansion settling and the ghostly echo of what we just did hanging in the air. My body still pulses with residual waves, muscles remembering his weight, the way he marked me with teeth and primitive possessiveness.

By the time anyone looked down the hallway outside the morgue, all they could see was a thick, sticky sheet of red. Five hours later, when Robin came to clean up the aftermath, all he found was a skeleton stripped bare of its flesh. "Clean it up. If Sandy asks, tell her he died in the explosion." Magnolia slowly wiped the blood from her hands, said those words, and walked away. Robin covered his mouth and nose to stop himself from throwing up. Looking at the hellish scene in front of him, he was still shaken. Who would have thought that the man Magnolia had spoiled so endlessly would die by her hand? But he deserved it. He was nothing, yet he had really believed he could cross the one red li

No Enzo to perform indifference toward or Nina to resent. Just the cell, and the silence, and the slow accumulating weight of years of bad choices condensed into a single uninterrupted reckoning. I had decided, somewhere in the second week, that I was not going to act remorseful for the tribunal. Not because I felt none, everything was differen, it was more complicated than that, but because performed remorse was simply another version of the manipulation that had defined most of my life, and I had grown tired, in the particular bone-deep way that came from genuine exhaustion rather than strategy, of performing anything at all.

It wasn’t amnesia all along; I know this fact; it was also the drugs that they gave me when I was captivated. I don't remember much about the times they injected me with drugs, but I know they didn't want me to die, but rather for me to forget everything forever, and it has something to do with our past in India. And it's certain that George and Alex will look into this personally. The way George fought with the men today, I'm sure the accumulation of guilt, loneliness, and sorrow made him the same ruthless man I met years ago. when I used to be "His Enthralled Desire."

"Are you trying to say that you've...?" "Yes, I killed him a few hours ago. His death should be all over the news by now," he answered, devoid of any remorse, his tone chillingly matter-of-fact. The realization hit me like a sudden jolt, leaving me momentarily stunned. It was hard to fathom how swiftly this man took the life of another human being. I knew the weight of taking a life, having experienced it myself when I ended the life of my ex-best friend. The guilt had haunted me for a long time. But Dante, before me, seemed capable of killing without a trace of remorse, his conscience undisturbed even as he sought solace in my embrace.

"Having the lad here is a nuisance but I can't help but feel he's part of the key. And I can't help but feel concerned for him. I've spent my life spurning people. I've spent the last few years destroying youth and it hurts like hell. I might not have thought much of firing at the naval bastards and those who got in my way but they were adults. They fought back." He recalled how blood and corpses stained the ocean. How the gore seeped into the sands and dyed them crimson. It hadn't bothered him in the slightest. He'd throw a few coins in the direction of the poor or the church as a small penance. But he had always justified his actions. Death came when there was no other option. "At least yo