Novel & Cerita Knife Blank Hidden Tang

“Breathe babe. You got it?” My fingertips brushed leather. Boot. I hooked two fingers under the cuff, tugged. The knife was tucked in the inner side pocket…small, folding, serrated edge. I got it. The blade slid free with a soft click. We both let out the same relieved breath. “Yes,” Agnes hissed. “You beautiful, brilliant and smart bitch.” “Shh,” I snapped. “Keep your mouth shut. We don’t want to draw attention.” She went quiet instantly.

With their robust construction, user-friendly operation, and safety features, Glock firearms provide the assurance I need for personal protection. Having securely stowed my Glock, I discreetly attach my knife to a concealed holster on my calf. It’s always wise to err on the side of caution. I make my way to the kitchen, where I quickly prepare a cup of coffee. Nona, busy cooking, greets me with a warm smile and a nod.

"Just one gun? Take a knife too—for extra security." He moved to another section, pulling out a slim, cylinder-like object. He held it up. I frowned. "What’s that? A perfume bottle?" The label even read Fragrance in elegant gold letters. Conner chuckled. "That’s the point. It’s a camouflage knife." He twisted the top, and in a flash, a hidden blade slid out. My breath caught. "Oh my…" The blade gleamed under the soft light, sharp, lethal. “I'll take it too," I muttered, stepping closer and reaching for it.

The front of the blade was as equally sharp. The machete did not have a hilt, as it was one solid piece. The only transition was that the tang of the blade was instantly turned into a handle. It only had one nock in it and it was right before the transition, on the same side of the blade. The nock was about the size of an index finger’s first knuckle, triangular in shape. Even though it was with out a hilt that nock had saved his life a few times, for no matter what was parried, the nock would catch it.

“I didn’t break a rib. I’m fine.” Chantal poked and felt around, and Gage swore soundly. “Hold still.” “You’re a sadist.” His jaw ticked as she felt along each rib. Happy with her examination, she rose and checked on their clothes. Her eyes fell on Gage’s sheathed knife, and Chantal reached out. “Careful! That blade is sharp. That’s a Ka-Bar.” “Isn’t that what SF soldiers use?” “Yes—It’s a U.S. Marine Corps Fighting Knife. Mine’s not a standard issue.”

Blight, Ryker’s Gamma, steps forward with a grin on his face. He’s dressed in all black like me, with blackout tattoos covering his neck and arms. Short cropped blonde hair, grey eyes, tall but muscular; I’ve heard tales about this Gamma that rival my own. He has a penchant for killing humans in the most gruesome ways, and his favorite weapon is a JagdKommando knife; the deadliest of blades as it has three edges that spiral together like a corkscrew into a sharp tip. No doctor can sew up a wound left by this knife.

She said as she reached into her boot to reveal a silver dagger covered with runes down the blade. I could translate the runes with a better view of the blade. I didn’t need to, though. I knew that blade very well. I was on the wrong side of one years ago when the Adio guild was still under shithead management. I wasn’t surprised Hana would have one. All hunters are issued that blade. We, of course, weren’t given such toys. Justifiably, since they are designed so, our kind cannot even touch the handle. “How do we know that’s the only place you have a weapon hidden?” Albert smiled.

Today, I choose something else. I open the secure locker and take out a Heckler & Koch MP7. It’s compact, rapid-fire, and designed to punch through body armor. I load a magazine and check the action. I grab a combat knife as well. Six inches of matte black serrated steel, and sheath it on my belt. I catch my reflection in the glass of the gun cabinet. I look like a killer. I don't look like a husband. And that’s fine. Because right now, Eve doesn't need a husband. She needs a beast to stand at the gate and bare his teeth.

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.

The male doesn't even realize he's doing it, getting comfortable with us. Ransom finishes tightening the final bracket and steps back from the workbench. “There.” He wipes soot from his hands and motions me forward. “Come on. Let's see if these fit.” I move toward him looking at his work up close. The claw blades are impressive. Curved steel extensions designed to fit over a shifter's natural claws. I didn't know what to expect but it wasn't this. The style will fit seamlessly into our style and fighting techniques making it each to incorporate our new advantage into what we already know.