Belt With Hidden Knife Novels & Stories

He said as he got up as if he had just woken up from his sleep. "What the fuck?" "Can you stop cursing? It doesn't suit you." "Are you okay? Are we okay? We're not, right? Don't give me that calm and cool manner, it suits you but not in this situation!" He ignored me and I saw his hands behind him, busy with something behind his belt. What does he think he's doing? My brow raised when I saw a sharp thing come off from his belt behind him. It's a small folding knife tucked inside his belt and pants. Who would put a small knife in the belt? Only him! This lunatic weirdo is a gorgeous twin of mine!

“They’re impossible to find during a body search, and Tjeck promised me they can pass through metal detectors without setting them off.” I examine the bra closely; it’s ingeniously crafted. The blade is mounted on a thin wire, making it appear like an ordinary garment even up close. “I had no idea Tjeck had these kinds of talents.” “There are four of them. Just remember to remove the knife before tossing them in the laundry.” He pulls something from his pocket and steps closer, gently taking my hand. With care, he ties a black braided leather bracelet around my wrist. “This proves you’re under my personal protection.” His grip lingers, and my heart races as his eyes lock onto mine, drawing m

The butcher knife. I untied the fabric off my nose and wrapped it to the blood-soaked murder weapon. With its blade facing upwards, I hid it under my black hooded jacket and secured it between the garters of my boxer shorts and my corduroy pants. Because the handkerchief was so thin that it couldn’t cover the entire butcher knife, I felt its sharp edges grazing my abdomen. It was hurting me a lot. Even so, I knew to myself that I had to endure the pain this injury might cause, if I really wanted to take the weapon with me and hide it from the police.

He rose from his seat, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something warm in his gaze. “You look stunning,” he said simply, his voice softer than I expected. I didn’t respond, brushing past him without so much as a glance. My focus was elsewhere. As I reached for my jewelry box, my fingers hovered over a simple silver bracelet tucked into the corner. It looked ordinary, unassuming, but I knew better. I slipped it onto my wrist, turning it slightly until I felt the faintest click beneath my fingertips. Inside the clasp was a concealed blade—a small, sharp dagger that could be deployed in an instant.

Raverine wore a black hoodie and loose denim jeans. He even bought an anonymous mask so that he could hide his whole face from the sellers. The only hidden weapon he has is his punches, kicks, and the tiny and slim knife he hid. The knife doesn’t really look like a knife, more like a flexible blade wrapped around his belt.

The stain wasn’t obvious but I could smell the strong rusty scent of it. “Sir, I don’t think they are from Moonraven. They don’t have the mark the members of Moonraven pack have.” Moonraven was my pack. And Bentley was right. We have marks that proved us as members of Moonraven. “Maybe Benedict has a secret cavalry or whatsoever to do this kind of dirty jobs without staining his name,” Calix deduced. “All of them have this weapon,” Bentley showed a small knife, like a dagger, with a mark of a crowned snake on its handle.

I stared at Zara who had become even more worried and said, "Riley blew the whistle on us too soon, that bitch!" I took out the small knife I had hidden in the bag and dipped the blade in snake venom. Giving it to Zara, I said, "if anyone tries to lay a hand on you, they will have to go through me first but, just in case, I want you to hold on to this. If the need arises, do not hesitate to use it." Zara nodded and accepted the knife from me. She wore the bag containing our belongings on her back and hid the hand holding the knife behind her.

Why were they embarrassed and their face turning into almost a red tomato? I, once again, look at myself from head to toe and thought of the weapons I have. I wore a heavy belt knife and carried a bow and arrows in my backpack. I was aware that I had a number of slim blades balanced for throwing hidden in various sections of my clothing, but they were well hidden from view.

I steeled myself and sat up, taking off my jacket and t-shirt which was soaked in blood. I realized that I don’t have my hockey stick with me. Damnit, if only I have enough time to reach the bag. But fortunately enough, I still have the belt Kaiser gave me. While brushing the kitchen knives—I added one more because having two knife makes me look like an assassin holding a pair of daggers—and also checking the nails placed in the holes of the belt, I glanced at my surrounding.

Whispered against my jaw: “You’re never leaving me again.” I laughed softly, still bent over, lips brushing his. We collapsed together, sweat-slick and panting. My body sprawled over his, chest rising and falling like waves crashing on a shore. He tucked himself back in, pulled me upright, and reached for something under the seat. When I turned, he was holding a small velvet pouch. “Open it.” I did. Inside was a knife. Not just any knife. Black handle, carved with roses. A silver blade etched with symbols I couldn’t read.