HIS HEART
  • Reads 2,701
  • Votes 127
  • Parts 30
  • Time 1h 27m
  • Reads 2,701
  • Votes 127
  • Parts 30
  • Time 1h 27m
Complete, First published Apr 16, 2021
"I work for the CBI."

"You are a spy?" I ask, fascinated at the thought. She looks fragile, like a flower and looks like she wouldn't win a fight against a teddy bear. Maybe she's in the tech branch or something less dangerous.

"I'm a licensed killer."
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The experiment. by shrosz
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They used my vulnerability against me. They used that weapon, to make me accept their stupid idea. And I of course, accepted it, I didn't even know what they were going to do. They tugged and poked and even shoved their disgusting finger in your wound, just to see you cry. To see you change. No pitty in their eyes. They just continue. They drag you around with metal chains, hit you and turn you into a experiment. But I had enough of the tugging, the clawing, the moaning, the crying and pleading for them to stop, but simply feeding them with our pain. They turned me into something, that neither do they know what I am. Their afraid of me, of my reflexes, my strength. I killed a lot of them. They say I have a cold heart, that I don't feel nothing. That's why they call me: Death -----------------------------------------************************************--------------------------------------------- Death. A teen girl, pitch black hair, black eyes, white skin. Her height is 5'8. People are scared of her, not just because of her strength but because of they way she kills. She lived in this hell hole, where they take her to rooms. Examine. Fight. She knows she won't be able to entertain them for long. She decides to run. Soul. Brown hair as mud, blue eyes as the sky. Hight 6'2. Tanned and toned body. Death's best friend in the hell hole they're in, he's as cold as she is. But shows a bit of sympathy. Well... More than her at least. He's been there for her, ever since she entered this place of crap. They're the two most feared. As some people say, they're a perfect couple. Killing. Fighting. Cold hearted creatures. Also known as D and S. Why? That's what your going to find out, joining this adventure with D and S.
The Godmother by Tony_Stank1995
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"𝐎𝐟 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐈 𝐝𝐨, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮", 𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝. "𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐟𝐮𝐥, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐦𝐞. 𝐈 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐈'𝐝 𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐮𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐟𝐢𝐚, 𝐈 𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐝𝐧'𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐧 𝐨𝐧 𝐢𝐭. 𝐁𝐮𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐦𝐲 𝐣𝐨𝐛 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞'𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐮𝐧𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐈'𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐭" **** Meet Agent Rochelle Romano 3 words: FBI, undercover, mafia She tackles her potential threats with an iron determination aided by sarcastic commentary. A manipulation expert and a sharp shooter. But when it all comes down to skin and bone, she picks out a small inconsistency in her picture perfect world. A tiny prick of a pin that shattered her entire perspective. Watch her as she tries to forage figments of her past and deal with the present to fix the future, all while giving you giggling fits. With her abandoned heart fixed by the love of a man, she was desperate to pick up the pieces and build an empire out of ruins. She becomes what they call, 𝙏𝙝𝙚 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙢𝙤𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧 *** Undergoing editing
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KILLED

22 parts Complete Mature

My best friend's body lies on the wooden floor, her head help up by the rope that is tied around her slender neck, which is secured to the ceiling. Blood still pools out of a wound in her abdomen, creating a vivid red puddle on the cedar planks. Sara's gray eyes are wide open and glazed over slightly, her light hair pulled into a messy side ponytail. When my brain fully registers these details, my hands drop away from my face, I turn on my heel, and then I burst into an adrenaline-filled sprint out the door. I take the steps two at a time, and when my feet hit the snow covered earth, I take off again, running and running as fast as I can, feeling not free, but full of unfamiliar fear. When I tear into the house, I find my mom sitting on the couch, staring at our Christmas tree with a soft smile on her face and a cup of coffee in her left hand, steam swirling up into the air in an intricate and beautiful pattern that only I can see. "Tess? Are you alright?" She's at my side the instant she sees my face, the coffee mug crashing to the floor and shattering to a million pieces, the shards representing my heart. "Call 911", I manage, my shoulders shaking. "Sara's dead." ------- Christmas was never supposed to start like this. My father wasn't supposed to come back, and my best friend shouldn't have been murdered. Now I'm wondering: What have I gotten myself into?