Jeff X Knife Novels & Stories

He fought with the absolute, ice-cold focus of a man defending his family. Xander deflected the knife arm with a sharp slap to Kaelen's wrist, the sound of bone fracturing echoing in the ring. Kaelen dropped the blade with a scream. In the same fluid motion, Xander stepped inside the man’s guard. He delivered three rapid, devastating strikes—one to the solar plexus, one to the throat, and a sweeping kick to the back of Kaelen’s knees.

I manage to twist it in deeper. Xander rolls his eyes as he reaches down for the knife. "It doesn't matter how far that knife goes, it's not going to kill me." "I wouldn't be so sure of that." I reply, nonchalantly. I can see a look of pain and fear cross his face. Xander is quick to reach to the metal, successfully pulling it from his stomach, and throwing it away from him. However, it's too late. Xander runs his hand along the stab wound only to find it has yet to heal. His eyes turn away from his injury to stare directly at me. If looks could kill, I'd be dead already.

This wasn't the first time something like this had happened. Each time they jabbed at Jeffrey, the latter would just smile and not take it seriously as he was good-tempered. So, Ryan didn't think much of it. But little did Ryan know that this time, such behavior would bring great danger. Under the moonlight, a cold light flashed. Suddenly, a sharp blade appeared in Jeffrey's hand. He brandished it fiercely, stabbing toward Ryan's back. Stab! The blade embedded deeply into Ryan's back, and a piercing pain spread through him. Clenching his teeth, he turned around and met Jeffrey's cold, blood-shot eyes.

I growl. I put the knife to my mouth and cut into my left cheek and sliced upwards. Blood begins to pour. “Like I said. I feel nothing!” I laugh. Xane and Alex stand and watch in horror. “So if you wanted to do anything else, it won’t bother me one bit!” I yell as I slice my right cheek. “Dude! He’s just gave himself a Chelsea Grin! What the hell!” Alex screams. I laugh hysterically. “Do you not want your knife back?” I chuckle.

He knew that they were heading into a situation where they might need to defend themselves, and his mind was focused on being prepared for any scenario. As he fastened a utility belt around his waist, Jeff's eyes scanned the room, taking in the sight of the weapons and tools at their disposal. He selected a small knife and slipped it into a sheath strapped to his ankle. The action was swift and practiced to his familiarity with such situations. With their preparations complete, they locked eyes once more, a silent understanding passing between them. "We're going to get them back," Jeff's voice was firm, his tone unwavering as he voiced the determination they both felt.

And Jacob was one. However, just as Xenon sent in more bodyguards, someone stabbed Jacob at his calf, and the cut was so deep that he staggered and fell over. Immediately, a few guys jumped at him. Xenon reacted quickly. He threw a high kick at one of the guy's heads and snatched the knife off his hand just before he fell over, then he charged at the other guys with the knife, slicing and cutting them mercilessly. He held Jacob with one arm and was ready to fight the rest.

Rafe muttered, but his voice wasn’t cruel—just tired. Jason sighed hard, pressing a hand to his ribs where the cut burned. “A customer pulled a knife on me.” Rafe froze in the middle of wiping a glass. “A knife?” “Yeah.” “And you… what? Punched him? Broke his jaw? Put him through a table?” Jason hesitated. Rafe blinked. “Please tell me you didn’t.” “I elbowed him in the ribs.” “That’s the same thing!” Rafe snapped. “He held a knife to me!”

Xavier nodded at him and took those knives. Dylan started to run and kill with two knives in his two hands, he was running forward and killing wolves with both of his hands. Those knives were silver knives, Skylar gave those to his four officials if they could not fight long because of tiredness. But she didn't give one to Dylan because Dylan was the True Blood. Dylan never thought that one day he would need those too.

I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of watching me crumble into nothing. No. Not today. “Yes sir,” I muttered. I forced myself to stand up. Every muscle protested. But I moved anyway, pocketing the knife with a trembling hand. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but it made me feel like I had some control. The pocket knife was a gift from Jamie. A silent request for me to make use of it when need be. At the end of the day, I couldn’t even defend myself with the object. But regardless, it can come in handy sometimes.

Seemed my mate liked a little torture. “What’s your name?” The rogue stayed silent, keeping his lips firmly pressed together. “I see how it’s going to be,” Xander said, voice eerily calm, and walked over to the wall of weapons. He selected a wicked looking knife. I was impressed with his collection. “I guess you’d rather do this the hard way.” The man took one look at the knife and started pulling at his restraints. They were tied way too tight for him to be going anywhere. He shot a pleading look my way and I just raised my brows at him. Where's that nasty glare now?