How To Fix A Switchblade Novels & Stories

I said as I stood up again. I walked over to the steel cabinet and opened the doors. I took out my knife roll and placed it on the table where she’d be able to see the display. I took out my favourite Gerber knife and turned it around in my hand. It had a fixed blade, not that I had anything against folded blades, but cleaning it afterwards sucked. In my personal opinion the fixed blade was stronger when separating a joint and getting into those tough spots and cutting through sinew and muscle. The blade wasn’t long but it was sharp and did what I needed it to do.

His voice was smooth, almost disarming, but there was an edge to it that made her stomach turn. Her brows furrowed. “What are you talking about?” Still, no answer. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small switchblade. The light glinted off the blade as he flicked it open, spinning it lazily between his fingers. Sophia’s breath caught. “Look, if this is about money, I—” He cut her off, the blade slamming down onto the wooden table beside him. The sound reverberated through the room, making her flinch. “This isn’t about money.”

Going out through the kitchen door, I walk to the backyard of the kitchen, opening all the windows, and I come back inside as the smoke gradually disperses and subsides. “Do you plan on killing me today with pepper?” I ask, covering my nose, “No I didn’t mean to, I’m just frying some fresh pepper and onions.” “Some pepper and onions, and you want to blow up everywhere. Let me have that.” I say collecting the spoon from his hand. Going closer to the pan, I quickly pour the tomato paste in the mixture and stir sharply and add a little water. The paste makes the pepper less peppery and I stop coughing.

I shifted my stance, adjusted my grip, kept going. “You hold it wrong.” I looked up. Creed had moved without me noticing. He was standing two feet away, looking at the blade in my hands. “I have been doing this for years,” I said. “You hold it at the wrong angle. You are working twice as hard for half the result.” I opened my mouth. He reached over without asking and adjusted the angle of the blade in my hands, two fingers repositioning my grip with the same practical efficiency he used for everything. Not a lingering touch. Just a correction.

I tsked, stopping in front of him. "Oh darling, save the dirty talk for the bedroom. We have guests." I teased before pulling out a switchblade from my pocket. The blade clicked as I flicked it open, and the sweet sounds of Gavin's cries of pain filled the air as I slammed it down into the palm of his hand.

A muffled groan vibrates from Blakes’ chest, which causes Ace to peer down at him. Towering over Blake, Ace arches a single brow. “Too loud, fucker.” He snarls in a murderous tone. “Turn around and hold on to the basin, Little Bird,” Ace orders as he turns to face me, lowering his zip, and advancing towards me. I do as I am told, watching Ace in the mirror. He removes the switchblade from his pocket, flicking his wrist to open it, and places it in his mouth, lodging it between his teeth.

He pulled out two switchblade knives, handmade and engraved with traditional Russian dialect. "Which one do you think I should use? I like them both but I don't want to get both dirty, do you see my dilemma? I can't decide." He said holding up the knives eyelevel as we walked down the steps and into the basement. One of my men guarding the door stepped aside and I nodded at him in acknowledgement. "Use the one in your dominant hand. It's obviously the one you like the most." I told him. We stepped into the dark room and I flicked on the light.

Scarlett replied, making the omega nod her head as she remembered Amelia talking about her mate being a warrior. "Here Luna, try this, " Josh extended the blade to Evelyn. "How do you hold the blade? I didn't really see it when you did that before," Evelyn took the blade from his hand. "You hold it like this, " Josh demonstrated, holding a star blade in his hand. "You have to form an 'L' with your fingers when you're holding it. Make sure none of its edges are closer to your skin. Don't move your hand forward when throwing, just use your wrist."

As he raised his right hand, he suddenly whipped out a butterfly knife with a sharp blade, stabbing it at Elio's chest. Only a truly ruthless character would pull out a deadly weapon without hesitation. It was not an ordinary switchblade, either, but a butterfly knife that required more skill to handle. "Ah!" A woman screamed involuntarily when she saw the weapon. The scene immediately erupted into chaos. Still, there was no way Elio would be injured by an amateur like that. A chill flashed across his eye, and his hands moved like lightning. With a single grab and twist, he dislocated Dwayne's wrist and rendered him helpless.

He muttered, his voice strained. I grabbed the first aid kit from the cabinet, focusing on the task at hand. My hands moved with precision, cleaning the wound and stitching him up like I'd done countless times before. Joey shifted slightly, his jacket falling open to reveal a glint of silver tucked into the waistband of his pants-a razor blade, small but sharp. I kept my expression neutral, masking the quick flash of realization. As I reached for the gauze on the table, I made my move.