Grunkle Stan Brass Knuckles Novels & Stories

With a single palm strike, Stanley smashed the wheelchair in front of him into pieces. Chantelle gasped and stumbled backward in fear. Then, Stanley's body expanded, swelling with raw power as a brutal energy radiated off him. As the sound of tearing flesh echoed through the air, pain twisted across his face. His fists clenched tight, and his frame swelled again, growing broader and more bear-like by the second. His shirt split open at the seams, shredded completely by the violent bulge of his muscles.

“You—you’re going to murder me? For what? An accident that happened years ago? She’s alive, isn't she? She’s thriving. She’s engaged to you! Why drag this back up? What did I even do wrong?” The audacity snapped something inside me. I reached for the brass knuckles one of my men handed over, sliding them on like a second skin. They were cold, heavy, and perfect. “What did you do wrong? Maybe this will remind you.” The punch connected with his jaw so hard the sound reverberated in my teeth. His scream tore through the air, his blood spraying warm across my glove as the brass split flesh wide open. He stared at his own blood dripping onto his thighs like he’d never seen it before, trembling li

I have been through worse situations. " You know you're not going to get anything from me" I answered as I looked straight into her eyes and watch her growl. " Well then, let's see if you won't talk now" She took a brass knuckle from her pocket and wore it on her fingers. This lady was funny. How many times have I been seriously beat up with multiple brass knuckles and here I was still alive. She was lame.

A Few Weeks Later – Light Shared POV, Through Amelia's Lens "Kirill, if you growl at the unicorn one more time, Elizabeta's gonna put glitter in your boots. Again." The former enforcer didn't even dignify that with a reply. Just narrowed his eyes at the child perched on the table, wielding a glue stick like a grenade. Amelia, sleeves rolled to her elbows, flipped another pancake with the skill and grace of someone who had not, in fact, been allowed near the stove for several consecutive days. She hadn't earned back stove trust. Not since the grilled cheese incident. Or the tea kettle mishap.

He was barely holding himself back from flinging himself at the guy. Silas looked at Dacre and gave him a thumbs up to show that he was fine. Their eyes met for a brief second but it was more than enough of an opening for his opponent who quickly flung a fist at Silas. He coughed blood as his opponent leered at him. I saw the other guy’s hand and noticed that it was smeared with blood. But to my shock, he was wearing a brass knuckle weapon that had a sharp pointed knife like edges on every finger.

After all, I have made my living off my so-called ugly scars. “What’s with the silver chains?” Stan chuckles, looking at Brutus. “You said ‘whatever means necessary’…” “And were they absolutely necessary?” “Nah, he gave up once his pack members were injured,” Linus says proudly. “Thank heavens for idiots who say too much,” Stan sighs. “Get the chains off of him now.”

Stan explained. I heard the doors behind me close, then got locked, I felt the need to show him this was a beautiful decision and so I reached the claps of my bra and took my braw off, I wasn’t sure where all this bravery was coming from but once I had my bra on my hands, I threw it at him.

Grace roared. “Grace, you have to understand!“ Hank started to say but stopped as Grace took the watch off and slammed it on the counter. She then looked in the draws till she found a rolling pin. “Understand this Hank!” Grace said as she smashed the watch repeatedly. Yes, she knew it was fucking childish, but she was filled with satisfaction as she watched it break into bits. “Grace!” Xan said reproachfully.

No answer. The room heated. The brunet extended his hand toward the cigar cabinet, only to grab a cleaver, its blade rectangle, broad and sharp. Before I could process anything, he slashed the blade over Uncle’s arm. Val jerked behind me, her hold on my shoulders tightening. Uncle’s shriek was louder than before, a whimpering sound that made my tears drip down my cheeks. “Better yet,” the brunet said, sniggering. “I’ll chop both your hands and display them outside, for people to see and learn what we do to child-fuckers.”

Lucas growled. Ryan smirked. “I could say the same to you.” Lucas clenched his fists. “Move your damn car.” Ryan tilted his head slightly, as if considering. Then, he reached inside his jacket. But Ryan didn’t pull out a gun. Instead, he pulled out a pair of brass knuckles and slid them onto his fingers. My stomach dropped. “Let’s make this fair, shall we?” Ryan said, flexing his fingers. “No weapons. Just man to man.”