Banter Knife Novels & Stories

I turn around and see Bane standing there with a huge smirk on his face, while holding a knife to the persons neck. "Izzy, you better call off your mutt of a mate. Or would you rather let me kill your baby brother?" "H-Help m-me S-Sissy!"

He was not able to find anything strange about the cutlery. Blayne peered over Sianna’s shoulder. He, too, arched his brow in curiosity. “Vance, did you find something?” “All knives in my home are either German or Japanese classic knives that are ordered in sets,” I informed them, “Surely you can see that there’s one that does not match the rest of the knives.” “Oh,” Sianna reached in to remove the knife but I quickly snatched her hand. Looking at her and shaking my head. Blayne and Duke suddenly realized the one that stood out.

he says grabbing his dick with his hand and gives it a tug over his jeans. In a flash I’m pinning him to the table with a stake knife held to his throat “Say another fucking word and ill slice your fucking throat” I seethe digging the knife into his throat. “Get her out of here” I say to Quinn who quickly sweeps her up off the floor and rushes out of the dinning room and out of the house. Slowly I step away from Banner but keep the knife raised and pointed at him “As of right now the Cresent Moon pack will no longer be doing business with your pack” I fling the knife an inch from his head and storm out of the house.

Sweat plasters the white t-shirt to his chest, rendering the thin cotton virtually translucent. Jesus. This is torture. "My turn," Butcher announces, stepping onto the mat. Butcher is a close quarters fighting specialist, especially good with knives. He’s entirely bald, and as heavily tattooed as I am. He thrives in the brutal, chaotic space where firearms become useless and personal space becomes a battleground. He tosses a solid black rubber training knife onto the mat in front of Oliver. "Pick it up," Butcher orders. Oliver groans, pushing himself off the wall. He picks up the rubber blade, holding it awkwardly in his right hand.

That's when I decided to frisk Hernan. Having a gun would make me feel better, knowing that Thinker had henchmen that would attack me when I didn't expect it. Or maybe it had been Thinker himself that assaulted Hernan, but physical attacks didn't seem like his modus operandi. I'd have put money on the attacker being a member of Thinker's cult. Yeah, the gun would feel good in my possession. I found three weapons on Hernan's person. He had a small .22 in a leg holster and a 9mm under his long shirt, around his waist. There was also an illegal butterfly knife in his pocket.

It looks like I've seen him before. ​"Vander, Vander, Martin... am I that easy to find?" he asked sarcastically. He played with two butterfly knives in his hands. They were still stained with blood. It was obvious that the asshole had just stabbed someone. ​"You're dumb. You're so bad at hiding." Oliver answered rudely, which only made Don Zerilliano's son laugh. ​"Where's Blanco?" he asked after he laughed. ​"Give us Vareen first." I told him. This animal might just be toying with us. It's better to be sure than not.

Fane’s ability was proven and she was reassured that he was worth the hefty twenty million bucks of monthly salary. "It's my turn! I'm not good at throwing knives, but perhaps I should give it a go!" Feeling intrigued, Fane just smiled and tossed the six knives at Harvey. "No!" Harvey was terribly scared. The br*t claimed that he was not an expert but he threw the knives anyway. Miss Tanya was just right beside him and he was worried about the speed of the knives that Fane sent across. The worst nightmare was that if Fane was not good at it, the knives might miss him and hit Miss Tanya instead.

“Aww, you think threatening me makes you a mighty giga chad, do you? I’ve been a member of the lawless underground society for more than ten years, and no one has ever dared wave a threat in my face! Are you happy that you’re the first? Now, come receive your reward!” Phantomknife unsheathed his snowy, shiny blades and pointed their tips at Javier. Cold glints bounced off their surface, making for a terrifying entrance, but little else happened, as Phantomknife never got to hit Javier with them. He felt a sharp pinch on his wrist and saw Javier’s silhouette get blurry. The next time his eyes focused, his shiny blades had changed hands. Javier was the one aiming the pointy bits at him now.

“And will you stop using that shitty nickname on me?” Stephanie shrugged, assuming a nonchalant expression. “Who knows, Pee, Peanut, Peabody. Will I ever?” Peter narrowed his eyes at her in warning and Stephanie, in response, bared her teeth to him in a mischievous grin. Joslyn, utterly fed up with the situation, sighed as she shook Peter's lingering arm off her shoulders and moved from between them. “Looks like you guys aren't eager to retire tonight. I, however, am completely knackered.”

Not that I had seen, anyway. As if reading my mind, Andrei pulled the knife in question out of the sheath at his hip and held it up for us both to look at it. The silver blade caught the moonlight, the ruby embedded in the hilt almost seeming to absorb it. “Pretty,” I said, digging through the first aid kit for some butterfly bandages. “Must have stolen it off a rich person.” Andrei shot me a look. “Let’s hope the original owner is still alive.”