Knife X Microphone Novels & Stories

She, too, held out something. “What is it?” Stefanie picked up the slender object made out of some strange material. About the length and width of her finger with a clip on the end, it fit into the palm of her hand. “A knife you can hide practically anywhere. I thread it through my hair like an oriental stick. Squeeze the buttons on both sides at the bottom and the blade will eject from the top. But as Prescott said at Bunker Hill, ‘Don’t fire until you see the whites of their eyes.’ Literally.”

“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.”

Hold. Kiema looked at me with wide eyes. "I see a scar on the right side of his face. From his mouth back up to under his helmet." "That'd be Reece," Lukas said. "Audiopath. He can pick up, manipulate, throw, and disperse sound waves. He's who knocked Kiema out at the cabin." "He's a fucking sound cannon?" I asked. "Basically. I would be careful using anything other than your implants for communications." Lukas shrugged.

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.

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Then you take a weapon! Make sure you can defend yourself if needed!” “I’m going to,” revealing from my other pocket the tiny silver blade Declan had given me before leaving. It had been confiscated from Viktor, edged with silver and intricately carved; it was a small and lethal blade. Easily concealed, Declan had made me promise to keep it on me. Then I painstakingly twisted one small black key with six notches out of the metal loop.

The microphone suddenly let out a sharp screeching howl, so piercing that everyone present clamped their hands over their ears. Mr. Whitaker frowned and looked toward the control console. "Jenna, what is going on?" "Sorry, sir. There is a bit of poor contact in the line. Old equipment." Jenna took off her headphones, looking completely innocent. "Wynn, maybe try speaking a little softer? This equipment does not seem very compatible with your voice." Low snickers rippled through the crowd. I put on a panicked expression and nodded repeatedly. "Sorry, sorry. That is my fault."

Maybe he had gone too far too quickly. A woman with a clipboard and a tightly wound bun intercepted them at the check-in counter. “Adrea Galanis?” she asked briskly, glancing at her tablet. “You’re at Table Six. Come with me to get your microphone.” Moreau stayed behind and Aris trailed along silently as Adrea followed the woman to a curtained-off area. A technician greeted her and began clipping a discreet mic to the neckline of her outfit, slipping the wire through to a small transmitter pack, which was fastened at the back of her waistband.

If I struck too soon, his allies would descend like wolves. And I wasn’t ready for that. Keiran reached into his coat and pulled something out. A knife. Its blade was sharp, polished steel glinting under the moonlight. He flipped it in his hand before offering it to me, hilt first. “Use this,” he said. “When the time comes.” I took it without hesitation, feeling the weight of it in my palm. It was smaller than the weapons I trained with, but the edge was deadly. A quick, clean kill.

"-is a very hi-tech, very sensitive microphone. With it, and with your help, I will be able to hear everything happening at the gala. If... say, you engage someone in a conversation, the person won't know they are being listened to. They wouldn't know they are being recorded. Yes. I can record the conversation if I want." He looked at me, silently asking for my permission. I nodded. Damian clipped the microphone to the front of my dress. When he passed his hand across it, the microphone was completely hidden from view by the folds of the dress. I eyed it dubiously. "It won't... fall off?" "No, it won't. It's not easily dislodged. Just remember you're putting it on, and you will be fine." I s