Jeff X Knife Novels & Stories

Jaxon frowned, and Juliette watched his finger trace the back of the knife on the table carefully. "Funny, because so am I," Jaxon stated simply, picking the knife up within his fingers. He turned it over in his hands, watching it glint in the dim lighting. If Ace was effected by this, he didn't show it. His expression remianed impassive. "Perhaps, but I think my job is slightly more broad," Ace objected, his eyebrow raising slightly. Jaxon chewed on his lower lip, contemplating this.

saying that he ended the call. Thomas burned in rage. "Trace the location," he ordered his men. Jeff was still crying but when he saw Thomas being distracted a little he pulled out the knife tucked against his waist gathering all his strength and attacked Thomas with it. Jeff succeeded in attacking Thomas' hand but it only took Thomas a few seconds before snatching the knife out of his hand piercing it inside his pouched belly and cutting it . Jeff shouted a cry of pain as the knife cut his stomach into two. Blood oozed out of his mouth, his eyes widened in pain.

This knife was gifted to him by Luka when he came of age, he is the only one in the pack who’s not affected by silver. When Xavier saw the knife, he looked at his brother in defeat; he knew he was not joking. He watched as Zande cut off Jace’s head like a butcher; he took it off his body so clean as if a machine cut it. He places the head aside and took gasoline which Xavier did not even notice was there.

Howled a man as he stabbed Jeff in the stomach, as the blade pierced him he smiled at his own accomplishment until he looked up to see life still in jeff's eyes. "First I will take you to hell with me!" Roared Jeff he swiftly drew a knife from behind his back and stabbed into the soldier's neck and ripped it across this throat. his head half severed he fell back to the ground. Jeff stood for a moment before collapsing backwards. "I am sorry family, I could not protect you." He mumbled as he fell. "Father!" "Noooo!" Trish yelled out, she rushed forward in a rage and grabbed for her husband sword and began fighting more fierce then the soldiers would have thought possible. Christopher charged

" Richo sobbed with his face turning bright red. He couldn't do anything. "Now, let me ask you one more time. Where is she?" "I ti... Ahkk!!!" another loud sound echoed throughout the room as Jaxter drew the knife quickly and suddenly thrust the sharp commando knife into the side of Richo's left thigh. This time instead of just jabbing, Jaxter drew it to tear through all the layers on his thigh, and he didn't even do one jab! But he did it repeatedly without saying anything. Not just in one place but in so many that all the jeans on Richo's left thigh turned dark red.

It was not until Jeff's knife had almost taken my life that they finally forced him to leave the Cunningham mansion and reflect on his actions in a swanky apartment they set up just for him. They called it reflection, but it was all for show. It was just a way to make me drop the issue of his violent attack. However, I never imagined he would turn to booze to numb the pain, or that he would get behind the wheel drunk and crash. He was torn apart in the wreck. From that day on, they pointed their fingers at me. They were convinced I was the reason he was gone, never cracking a smile my way again, and they made me visit Jeff's grave every year to lay down flowers and wallow in guilt.

“Like some people.” “You wound me,” he says, but his eyes are dancing. “What’s this?” He points at the throwing board Jace replaced yesterday, the new rings bright and crisp. Knives sit in a neat line on the rail, their handles wrapped in black leather that’s starting to soften to my grip. “That,” I say, picking one up, “Is where we practice stabbing before we get stabbed.” My voice keeps the joke. My hands don’t. I weigh the knife, settle my elbow, square my shoulders, let my hip give me the power, and bury the blade a finger’s width from the red-painted center. The thunk is a sound that goes through bone.

Either someone was helping me… Or my crew finally found me. I knelt beside the body, yanked the blade from his neck. It was warm. Clean enough. I wiped it. Then moved. I turned a corner — two guards. Eyes wide. No hesitation. The blade sank into the first one’s throat. The second raised his gun, but I was faster — sliced his face, then stabbed his chest. Both dropped, lifeless. My bare feet slapped the marble floor. I saw the sitting room doors — wide open.

Behind me, Xavier gently and discretely pulls my arm back, his hand reaching for the knife. Before Steve has time to understand what's happening, Xavier grabs the knife, and throws it with complete precision and accuracy into his skull. I see his body slowly react to what has just happened. His knees bow down to the ground, where his body falls down in a dead drop shortly after. Steve is lying on his back, with the knife sticking out the front. A pool of blood forming at his side. Stunned, my mouth falls open. I turn to Xavier impressed with what he's just done, only to see him collapse to the ground. I quickly reach for him, and help him to stand up.

"Someone in the Richards family got hurt; they definitely will not take this lying down. One knife..." Jepherson did not speak. Jacky focused his gaze on Logan and continued, "Waverly Village would like to apologize for that person. One knife..." None of the attendants spoke. "These three knives will put an end to our grudges. It's up to fate whether he survives this or not. Any objections?" No one spoke; Logan's eyes were fixed on the ground. Jacky threw a knife on the ground and barked, "Come on." Logan lifted his head and looked at Jacky as he reached for the knife. He plunged it directly into his chest but merely let out a muffled groan. Everyone in the room stared at him.