We Kill Killers (Psychological Thriller #2)

by S.T. Ashman

I ran my hands forcefully up and down the length of the keys as if the loud, angry roars of the music were my only voice.

The specialists credited my exceptional musical abilities to Savant syndrome, but my mother, indifferent to the arts, saw me as nothing more than a mistake—a burden placed in this world to torture her. As I stood there, watching the kids bolt down the street as if they were being chased by the devil himself, I couldn't help but wonder if anyone else in the world felt this hollow emptiness deep inside.

a sociopath is an out-of-control savage while a psychopath is a calculated genius.”

But what other option did I have? Leah Nachtnebel wasn't a hero, but in an era when darkness brought order to justice, a villain of her caliber was exactly what the world needed. She was the most ingenious person I'd ever met. As things stood, she was our only hope in capturing one of the worst killers to walk the earth.

The notion of cleansing the world of monsters felt infinitely more fulfilling than any applause I’d received as a pianist.

He was the one percent of the one percent, thriving off the labor of the bottom 99.99%. The true American dream.

“While I understand the allure of luxury and support it, the very existence of billionaires seems absurd in my view. To amass such wealth without genuine concern for those in poverty mirrors a lack of empathy. Billionaires like yourself often support a political system that solidifies your elite status and supports a cycle of hardship for the less fortunate. My stance may not reflect the outlook toward all individuals of vast wealth, but in your case, you’re right: Your empire is built on . . . shit.”

In the context of love and war, as the saying went, all was fair—and in this instance, the same principle applied to the pursuit and eradication of monsters. Including myself.

“That while people were opening doors for you, those very same people either slammed them in my face or tried to get in my pants. I grew up in an America some people choose to deny exists. A shitshow not in some far-off communist country but right here, in front of our middle-class mortgaged doorsteps.”

"That's the US military for you," Heather said. "We create the best." "And the most depressed,"

I gazed at Richter, the man I once considered an ally, now potentially the one who could cause my downfall. But then, wasn't this the very reason I had sought him out? To save me from my true self and the dark deeds I might commit in moments like these? If I walked away now, it would be a "real" murder weighing on my conscience, as the monsters never counted.

The monster deep within me was locked away tonight. Richter had awakened my humanity. He had saved me from myself.

If I went down because I’d saved a life and not because I’d taken one, I was okay with that. I was, for once, at peace.

“Vanilla is the most popular flavor in the world, honey,” I said to Sarah. “Don’t ever fuck with me again.”