Cut Beyond Novels & Stories

My breath hitched, catching in my damaged throat. "Don't faint," he warned, watching my face go pale. "I need you conscious. I need you to feel it." He took my burned hand. He laid it palm up on a sterile pad. He picked up the scissors. The metal was cold. Snip. He cut through the dirty gauze. He started peeling it away from my skin. It stuck. The fabric had fused with the weeping blisters, becoming part of the wound. Killian didn't pause. Didn't try to soak it first to make it easier.

He says sternly. "You are not allowed to contact anybody from your past. Do not try to run. If you run, you will be hunted down and you will be disciplined. Do not disrespect the boss. Do not tell anybody anything that you witness. You never get out of this life, so the best thing you can do for yourself is to embrace it. Are we clear?" He asks after listing all the "rules" and I simply nod. I do not have it in me to fight him on anything he says.

Smoothing over the cut, which heals instantly. The Goddess is here.

What am I to you? A determined look crossed Ethan's face. He tried to get up from the wheelchair, but his legs didn't support him, causing him to fall to the floor. His hand got cut by the glass shards, and blood spilled, staining the wooden floor. He reached for the craft knife in the midst of the mess and revealed the sharp blade by sliding the button upward.

It instantly sped out, breaking through the air a hundred feet away from Rupert. This attack was extremely fast and instantly penetrated the small defense shield above Rupert's head. Rupert's face changed drastically when he noticed this, and he immediately dodged to avoid it. Even so, the sharp-edged Oculus Blade cut off his arm the moment it penetrated the defense shield in front of him. Rupert, whose arm was cut off, had a sullen face and was as angry as a wild lion. He glared at Severin ferociously and shouted, "You deserve death!"

No blade could touch him unless. Unless. It did. His palm still ached faintly, a razor-thin slice across the edge, a mark that shouldn’t exist. The impact should’ve phased through, his molecular shift placing him between the dagger’s frequency and its edge. Instead. It cut me. It should not have cut me.

I had not just cut off his cash flow; I had doused his entire financial empire in gasoline and thrown a match. "He's in the car," Marco murmured, pointing to another feed. We watched Vincent's black sedan pull up a safe distance from the chaos, a predator forced to watch its den be destroyed. I could imagine the feel of the cold leather under his white-knuckled grip, the taste of his own powerlessness like metal in his mouth.

Ultimately, he sighed in exasperation before shaving my hair off and giving me a buzz cut. When I got home, Scarlet was nearly shocked to see that all my hair was gone. "Vi! What did you do to your hair? Why is it now a buzz cut?" "It's more convenient that way," I said. The comments suddenly popped up on the screen. "As expected of the main character's sister. She's a step ahead of everyone else." "Exactly! Who would want to waste precious water to wash hair instead of drinking it?" "Everyone's going to get a buzz cut next time, regardless of their gender!"

Jack had always wondered that, too. He recalled how easily the blades slit open the fingers, no harder than cutting through a block of room-temperature butter. The blood had not spurted out as much as he’d hoped, just as for Charles there wasn’t pain instantly, only a hot sensation that grew with every heartbeat. Neither boy got what he was expecting. Charles pulled away, tears swelling and then exploding in his eyes. He was really starting to bleed. Droplets speckled the grass. Jack reached out and grabbed him by the forearm, pulled him in close and lashed out with the scissors.

Minus “Well, that could’ve gone better,” Cutter said, as he walked around his desk, opened the bottom drawer, and produced a bottle of Jim Beam and small black medical bag. The type old timey doctors took on house calls back in the day. “There should be some bandages and ointment and shit for your face in here. You can use my bathroom to clean up,” he said, handing me the bag and motioning to the bathroom door. “Cutter, what the fuck—”