Rick Grimes Hidden Blade Novels & Stories

She won't just be facing one Cutthroat but 3: A gunslinger, A slayer, and a slicer. One is already hard enough to be defeat in her current state. She barely able to move her limbs, plus her vision turned blurred once again. One in the middle, a young adult holding the sword uttered. “You give us a hard time to find you. Thankfully, someone informed us you are here and give us a perfect picture of your unmask face far from this girl in this pic.” he threw it to Zitrey that fell precisely in front of her foot. It was her old photo as Crimson Blade that only higher-ups can hold.

He neglected to mention I'd be tuned to every frequency simultaneously. I stumble toward the crib, both hands finding the post where the Phantom Blade is hidden. The wood feels different under my fingers—I can hear the grain, the microscopic tension of the fibers against the mounting screws, the faint acoustic memory of every hand that has touched it. Then Marcus Vane's voice cuts through, as clear as if he were leaning over my shoulder. He's in the security sub-level. I can hear the specific echo of the server racks framing his words.

The other tackled me hard, slamming me into the ground. “You stupid girl!” he growled, pinning my wrists. I headbutted him, felt his nose crunch, then drove my knee up between his legs. He howled and loosened his grip. I grabbed the knife from my boot and slashed his throat. Blood sprayed across my face. Viktor appeared above me, gun pointed at my head. “End of the line, Moretti.” A single silenced shot rang out. Viktor’s eyes went wide. A red hole appeared in the center of his forehead. He dropped like a stone.

I pressed my thighs together and kept moving. And just like I suspected , Blade stepped out from behind a thick tree. He wore tight black hunting clothes that showed every muscle. His black hair was messy. His gray eyes locked on me. He looked big and dangerous. My wolves tensed. I raised my hand. “Stay back. This is between us.” Blade walked straight to me. His steps were heavy. He stopped close. His chest rose fast. His eyes burned into mine. “You run well,” he said. His voice was rough. “But you cannot hide forever.”

I'm deep in the woods when something catches my attention, his built is familiar, not just at the party, I can swear I've met him before, plus him standing, like he's towering over something doesn't lessen my suspicion. I try to make my presence less noticeable moving between the trees, bending a little as I manouver my way to come from his back instead. Whatever he was staring down at, it's hard to tell, but the knife in his hands is too bold for me to miss. Without thinking, I pull the gun from my coat. A shot cracks through the air, and he drops with a cry, clutching his leg. Just then the red dress glows under the dim light and I meet with the unconscious figure on the bare ground.

Arms like tree trunks, a jaw that looked like it had been carved from granite. A scar ran from his left ear to his chin, a souvenir from the underground circuits down south. He cracked his knuckles and grinned at me. "Little Ghost," he said. "I've been looking forward to this." I didn't answer. I never did. The bell rang. Blade charged, faster than I expected for someone his size, and I gave him that much credit as his fist came down like a hammer, aimed straight for my temple. I sidestepped at the last second, the force of the missed blow stirring my hair as it cut through the air where my head had been.

In a blur of controlled precision, he spun, grabbed Gabriel’s wrist, and twisted his arm behind his back, his left hand holding him firmly in place. His right hand moved to his single braid, the tips of his fingers gliding along its smooth length to the hem. With a practiced flick, they pressed against a hidden slot, releasing a small, sleek blade. In one fluid motion, Henry drew it free and pressed it against Gabriel’s neck, his grip unyielding. Gabriel froze, every muscle rigid with shock under the sudden, lethal precision. ****** Gabriel’s eyes flickered coldly down, inscrutable, as they landed on the small blade Henry held hidden in his braid. Henry reacted instantly, sliding the blade a

Just the moment, raw. Lucas had something different in his grip. Not just any blade—this one shimmered like it was made for only one thing. Killing. Not scaring, not warning—killing. I yelled at him to throw it at the damn giant coming from the east ridge, but he didn’t budge. Just stood there, eyes locked on the dagger like he was seeing something the rest of us couldn’t. The sun caught the blade in bursts as he turned it slightly in his hand. Too smooth. Too deliberate.

I remembered seeing him threaten Kimberly with it a time or two. The blade was open, covered in a thick layer of rust. Only it wasn’t rust. It was dried blood. He took another step, the light in his eyes shifting. There was a manic sort of excitement in them. “I stabbed him eighty-seven times. I wanted to bring you his skull, but Ryker wouldn’t let me,” He shot his brother a dirty look. “His death should have been slower, but after he confessed what he’d done I blacked out. If we had known sooner—”

She closed her eyes and let out a sigh, she was done. The fight had ended. Timmy Stormblood (two hundred thousand perus) had defeated Deputy Officer Eithne Short-eye (two hundred thousand perus). ... Billy Drakens reached for his swords, Gravemaker and Ritual Warblade. Opposite him was the Deputy Officer Lothar Sun. Bill Drakens was an occasional dual blade weilder, his two swords were both cursed blades. Cursed weapons were told to harbour demons within them, or at least that was what the rumors told.