Honing The Edge Major Kills Novels & Stories

Then I could hear the doorbell ring, I could see Kate from the dash cam, so I opened the door and she wrapped me in a hug. " I'm so sorry" were her words. I was completely numb. "I believe what you said about the nightmares, Mike the homeless man died this morning as well" Kate dropped the bombshell. "That couldn't be" I screamed. Those were the two people the old hag killed. I couldn't control my emotions as I kept wailing. Kate stayed with me during the weekend and helped me with the basic things I needed help with around the house. Kate also offered I stayed at her place but I declined. I can't afford to be close with any other family and later get to know that they would leave this world

The sword known as the treasure of Blade's Reach was destroyed by Adrian. Hansen looked at the shattered Lunar Edge, completely stunned. The next moment, Adrian struck again with the Hellblade, which carried a killing intent that surpassed everything. The attack was about to fall on Hansen's neck.

“My wolf… he says we need to get to Hallow’s Edge. Something important is there. And I ran into Blair on the way out. Again with 'I can be your Luna' bullshit.” Mom and Dad exchange a look. Dad mutters, “Great. Just what we need.” Mom’s eyes soften. “Wolves don’t sense things without reason. And Blair is still a child. She will understand once she finds her true mate.” I nod, gripping my duffel tighter. Whatever’s waiting for us in Hallow’s Edge… it’s big. It’s important. And it’s meant for me.

We barely gave each other anything, that was why the scoreline was so low. The Saints broke the huddle and lined up fast. I crouched low at defensive end, fingers brushing the turf, every muscle in my body coiled tight. Sweat burned my eyes beneath my helmet. My gaze locked on their quarterback. "Watch the edge!" Mike barked. He was our linebacker.

"Burn the grey out of me." From the edge of the moat, the lead vanguard soldier found the manual override panel, and a narrow, iron footbridge began to grind out across the molten brass toward our platform. The hounds were coming across, their blades raised, while the massive brass shadow of the Keeper brought the forging hammer down in a final, crushing arc aimed directly at the center of Killian’s chest.

I kept that thought to myself though. We started drilling not long after, and somehow Kai always ended up on my side of the rink instead of Mason’s. Every time I demonstrated something, I could feel his eyes following me. Not in a creepy way. Just interested. “You’ve got insane edge control,” he said after I finished a transition sequence. “You know, most people force it too much, but you make it look easy. And it’s honestly annoying. Trust me.” I snorted out a laugh. “Thanks, I think?”

I yell when I take notice of a familiar figure walking around the parking area. "Hey!.....Killian? Hey!" I call for him again and this time he finally looks back, the usual blank expression plastered on his face. I jog up to him when he stops walking and stands still. His strong scent hits my nostrils immediately, he smells like cigarettes and I absolutely hate it. I try my best to ignore the irritating scent and look into his eyes. I'm standing closer to him so now I've a clear view of his eyes, of his face. He has beautiful forest green eyes, his blond hair and sharp jawline makes him more of a handsome guy. He has a subtle bear growing on his jaw, it makes him look older than he is. Nonet

"Homer, this is the Soul Crusher Edge. I'll give you one last chance. Surrender total control, or I'll pierce your soul and obliterate you!" Homer didn't flinch. Instead, he smirked. "Go ahead. Show me how powerful your Soul Crusher Edge really is." "You asked for it!" Sylas bellowed and hurled the Soul Crusher Edge forward. He had to destroy Homer's soul for disrupting his plan. Killing him would cost Sylas a bit of his own soul, but he had no alternatives. Once Homer was gone, he needed to escape quickly. Otherwise, the puppet would be trapped in this dimension.

Something real. Like the fight hadn’t already begun days ago. She tightened her jaw and kept pace. They reached the post—a small stone outcrop half-covered in frost—and ducked inside. It was colder here, shadows clinging to the corners, breath fogging in the dim light. Ronan knelt by a locked crate and popped it open. Weapons. Old, worn, but well cared for. His fingers brushed over a long dagger, then paused. He held it out to her. “Silver edge. Won’t kill a shifter unless you go for the heart, but it’ll slow ‘em.”

He remained unfazed and cold. He knew the rules. They were forbidden from shooting the Marks on critical areas like the peritoneal or thoracic or the head and neck. They couldn’t shoot on the femoral artery too. Every other place was game. Every other place except the balls. He had once asked Marcelli Dulce, the owner of GREZZO, if the rules could be twisted to suit one’s requirement. They couldn’t, he had said. Too bad. He needed a kill at the moment, but this would do for the moment.