Hidden Wrist Blade Novels & Stories

I push off the floor and go low, aiming for the space under his ribs where armor would slow a reaction. My hand closes on the blade hidden in my sleeve. The motion is clean. Familiar. I strike upward. He moves at the same time. His hand snaps around my wrist with precise timing. The blade stops inches from his body. There’s no struggle. Just sudden stillness, like hitting an invisible wall. I try to twist free. He doesn’t let me. His grip is firm, but careful. He adjusts his hold instead of tightening it, shifting my wrist so the angle won’t break anything. That detail registers even as I fight it.

I fastened the small clasps at my back with quick fingers, the fabric whispering against my skin like a vow. My hands moved next to the vanity, to the carved ivory box I had hidden from even Mira. Inside lay the blade—a thin, ceremonial dagger with a hilt of obsidian and a kiss of emerald at its tip. A gift from a witch who had once warned me: “There will come a night when words are useless, and only steel will speak for you.”

From my wrist sleeve, I slipped out my insurance policy. It wasn't metal. Metal would set off the magnetometer wands Jarrah’s enforcers would undoubtedly sweep over me before I stepped foot inside the cathedral. It was a five-inch, customized carbon-fiber blade jet black, feather-light, double-edged, and completely invisible to security scanners. It was a quiet, lethal piece of engineering I’d bought off the black market two years ago. Carefully, with methodical precision, I slid the sheath into the tailored pocket built within the heavy boning beneath my left rib cage. The blade sat flush against my ribs, hidden entirely by the cascading layers of lace and reinforced satin.

It easily the most stunning knife I’ve ever seen; it's small enough to hide but also sharp enough to do some serious damage. “Oh.” I gasp as I pull the knife from the box and lift it to show Gideon; he’s smiling like he knew exactly what was inside of the box. Ghost pushes back to his feet and rolls up his left sleeve to show me a small paw print tattoo on his inner wrist. It's the exact same print that's on the knife.

I twisted my wrist, flattening the blade on her neck, the cold steel pressing directly against the frantic, leaping pulse point just beneath her jaw. Her body heat seeped into mine through our thin clothes, her rapid, shallow breaths hot against my collarbone. I didn't let go of her wrist, keeping her pinned tightly against the hard planes of my torso. I leaned my head down, my lips inches away from hers, close enough that I could see the dark ring of amber around her pupils. "Always look out for unexpected weapons," I whispered, the words brushing against her mouth. "A gun in your face is usually a distraction for the blade in the hand."

Haris was taken aback when he saw Adrian's attack. He had a deep impression of the Inferno Purgatory. It was this move that told him that Adrian’s weapons were top-notch treasures. As someone from Blade's Reach, Haris had been around weapons since childhood, particularly swords. Adrian's Divine Frost Slayer Blade was the most enigmatic weapon he had ever encountered. It seemed to possess a consciousness of its own, making it extraordinarily mysterious. As for the Hellblade, he deduced from his clashes with Adrian that it was an exceptionally rare and valuable weapon.

She tried to keep him still as she brought forth the hand hidden behind noiselessly "Tell me, can you feel it?" Her hand was close to his chest now, clutching the silver blade tightly. This was his end now, she felt a bit sorry for him but her children mattered more. Her hand went up in the air and she brought it down with all the strength she had left. Suddenly, Wayne's eyes flashed open, he quickly put an arm up and the blade dived deep right into it. A howl escaped his lips as he held the wounded arm

“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

Wilson had a slightly confused face, and I realized with a start that he had never seen my training with Lily. He truly believed he could beat me. “I pick this,” I replied out loud as I picked a small, gold-handled blade. It was small, had a balanced handle, and most importantly, was blunt. So I wouldn’t hurt Wilson. “Just one?” Wilson asked staring at my small blade in disbelief. The larger ones would slow me down but I didn’t reply and just shrugged. “Yeah, I have one request though” I stepped back from him. “Wear your shirt back. Fight ends with the first draw of blood."

But it's a feint and we both know it, calculated to draw a reaction from me. Testing me... My speed... My reactions... Younger than me... How much by? Ten years? His knife... Blade maybe eight inches. Well cared for. Well used... Left-handed... ... Thinks that gives him an advantage. Most practice against right-handers. I've done both. He stabs out. Hard. Fast. Teeth bared. Pupils pricked. I jerk back and he follows through, but I grab him by the arm. We grapple. His blade to my throat. My hand locked to his wrist.