Knife Drop Novels & Stories

His feet hit the ground like pistons, cold and mechanical, and he held the knife tightly in his grip, blade down. Oh, oh, how tragically this shall unfold.

Apparently, a shard of glass from the broken car window had sliced through the scar, rupturing it. "It's just a little blood," Natasha said as Lucas wiped off the blood from her neck with the sleeve of his shirt. The moment he was doing that, he noticed something sticking out through the tiny slit below Natasha's neck. "I think there's something in here. Maybe the glass that cut you." They moved to a bench and away from the road where they all sat and Lucas worked his fingers to get the object out. "Ow, careful!" Natasha hissed. "Sorry. Almost got it."

Of course there wasn't any food, glass or plates yet, it's all new and nothing had been placed in there apart from the sofa and bed as well as the electricity which had been fixed just a few days ago . A kitchen knife lays fallow I'm the cupboard, the. Hand traces all through the cabinet and finally it's hand clashes into the knife causing it to fall into the ground. Everyone and everything had echoed and reverbatted the same sound of the knife, It waits for a few seconds hoping to hear movements of any sort but nothing happens, it waits for a few more seconds yet still nothing. A little confident it holds the knife tight and approaches Kaden who still Kay's in bed, oblivious to all that is

BLADE 2. He forced his tongue into my mouth and pinned my two hands roughly on the bed. He doesn't allow me move. I wiggled my body but he ended up hitting my boobs with his palm. The pain sent the wrong sensation down my pussy. It throbbed shamelessly. He stopped kissing me and before I knew it, I landed a slap on his cheek which I regret doing. His demeanor changed instantly. I presume it didn't sit well with him.

To see if he’d run screaming or if that twisted part of him—the one that gets hard when I pin him down—would wake up and watch? I turn back to the table. My fingers trail over the row of knives laid out on black velvet. Different lengths, different curves. Some for precision, some for pain. I pick up the one made specifically for skinning—thin, razor-sharp, slightly hooked at the tip. Knives have always been my favorite weapon, there’s so much you can do with it.

Kill. I stalk over to the bed, the floorboards creakin' beneath my feet, but he doesn’t stir. I lean over him, my lips pullin' into a grin that feels too wide, too sharp. My mind buzzin', my body twitchin' with anticipation. I drag the blade across his throat in one swift motion, feelin' the warmth of his blood on my hands as it spills out. He gurgles, eyes wide with shock, but I’m already movin' on.

Very sharp-looking knives. I sit back and do the calculation. If that were to fall, whoever was standing by the door would be turned into a kebab. “You know, Whiro, I probably wouldn’t do that if I were you,” I say casually. “As if I’m stupid enough to listen to you,” he scoffs just as he gives the doorknob a heave, causing it to pull right out from the door. But the knob is attached to some kind of chord. “What the fuck?” Whiro says in confusion as the sound of spring mechanisms can be heard going off at the same time the chandelier drops. Whiro narrowly dives out of the way but lets out a cry of pain as one of the knives impales him right through the calf while the other knives become embe

Hold On to Me The mountain laughed. Not the house. Not the mirror woman. Not the rogues outside. The mountain. The sound rolled up through the black stairs beneath Frost Ridge, deep and old and pleased in a way that made my knees want to quit their job. Damien shifted in front of me so fast his torn shirt fell from his waist. Again. I did not look down. Much. This was absolutely not the moment to process naked alpha logistics. Kael’s silver blade caught the weak light spilling from the broken windows. The weapon looked thin, almost delicate, with a black handle wrapped in something that might have been leather.

she muttered under her breath. “You left it in the trap, didn’t you?” Vega’s voice cut through the moment, sharp and accusing. “Crap!” Hennia smacked her forehead in frustration, her shoulders slumping. “We can’t use another knife! The Blade of Septem is the only one that works!”

The bullet shattered the mirror behind me. “I’m asking one last time. Who sent you?” I didn’t answer. I struck again. A different blade this time—coated in something special. The tip was laced with peanut butter oil, a tiny trick I was saving for Klaus. Word on the black market was he had a deadly allergy. Even a scratch could stop his heart. I aimed for his neck. The blade slid across the skin—not deep, but enough to deliver the toxin. He growled and threw me off, slamming me against the wall with a force that cracked my breath.