Killer Fiction の小説・ストーリー

WARNING SIGNS: LANGUAGE THAT IS UNAMBIGUOUS CURSING VIOLENCE, GUN VIOLENCE SELF-INFLICTED HARM BLOOD, DECEASE, and GORE LUCA POV My guards were positioned behind each of the men with blindfolds on. I approached them slowly. "This guy is a killer," I stated, pointing at the first one. I found it amusing. I might have blood on my hands too, but I haven't harmed any innocent person. "He shot and murdered a family of five while they were asleep. Two of those victims were young kids."

His leg bent the wrong way as he collapsed screaming, bone jutting through skin. I watched, unable to look away. Hilda was a killer. Not just someone who could kill—someone who had killed many times before. Killing was as natural to her as breathing. She didn't hesitate. Didn't flinch at the blood. Didn't show any emotion as she ended lives one after another. But there were too many. For every rogue that fell, two more took their place. And Rennick was recovering, his face already healing as he circled the fray.

Art added coolly. The police exchanged looks, then nodded. “Thank you. That will be all for now.” After they left, Hilda turned to Art. “What was that about?” Art replied quietly, “Someone killed the four men who harassed you.” Hilda froze. “Who… Who would do something like that?” Art confirmed what he had learned just hours ago—Aron was the one responsible. Khan had seen everything and reported it to him. At first, Aron ignored the harassers when they crossed paths, but something in him must have snapped after he saw Hilda crying.