Romans & histoires Safety Scissors Isaac

King smirks, then presses the blade just beneath Isaac's shoulder blade and slices. The sound is thick. Wet. The kind that stays with you. Isaac jolts, a raw, broken sound tearing out of him, like a scream that never makes it all the way out of his shredded lungs. "Oh, fuck," I mewl. Wetness pools out of me like a river. "Careful, King," Mason warns, breathless. "His heart's not gonna take much more."

What do you want? Isabella’s smile was small and cold. Everything. She took out a small device and pressed a button. A screen lit up behind her, showing live video footage—two cribs with two babies sleeping. Michelle gasped in relief. They’re alive…For now, replied Isabella coldly. But their safety comes at a price. What price? Isabella moved closer, eyes gleaming with determination.

He stepped closer, and with one swift motion, I brought out the scissors, aiming them directly at him. “Stay back!” I spat, lifting the scissors higher and pointing them directly at his chest. “I’m not afraid to use this!” My fingers trembled, betraying my bravado, but I refused to lower my guard. His voice was low, mocking. “Drop the damn scissors before you hurt yourself.”

After a moment of consternation, someone reacted quickly and asked the service crew to get the scissors. The reporters were asking questions. "Ms. Becker, we want a statement from you. Why do you want scissors?" "Yeah, Ms. Becker, what are you trying to pull here?" Kisa smiled at the crowd. "I'm not pulling any tricks. I'm just trying to explain to you." As she spoke, a service crew quickly brought the scissors and handed them to Kisa, and instantly everyone fell silent and looked at her in puzzlement.

she brought the machine to Isabelle's notice. The shredder was by the door side, and Isabelle wondered how she'd use it since she had never used one before. "If you get to a box with books of versions still in need, leave them in the box. Understood?" Isabelle nodded at the helpful glint in Miss April's eyes. "Great." She walked to Isabelle's side and leaned in to whisper, "if you're too tired to continue, the box also makes a great alternative for a chair." She winked at her.

Not even Isaac Corres was getting a key today. For the next thirty minutes, Santiago let himself go. Isaac’s fingers were magic—especially when he led Santiago to the sinks and scrubbed the tension out of his scalp with cooling shampoo. Santiago had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a low, vibrating purr that would have definitely broken the 'tough guy' facade. When they moved back to the chair for the beard trim, Isaac had to stand close. Dangerously close. His chest was nearly brushing Santiago’s nose, and the scent of him—ozone and expensive shears—was making Santiago’s pulse drum against his ribs.

“The kids can wait in the car with security. Let them look at it properly.” She turned toward him with her eyebrows pulled together. “I said it’s fine.” “And I said let them check it.” After a few minutes of going back and forth, with her crossing her arms and him refusing to drop it, she finally let out a breath. “Fine. But only because the kids are watching.” They stopped at the private clinic Isaac used, and Isabel climbed out with a quiet mutter while he came around the car behind her. Inside, the doctor changed her bandages carefully while Isabel sat still in the chair with her fingers flexing. Isaac stood by the door, watching.

How many heads had they seen ever since working with Isaiah? "Take it away," Isaiah ordered. "And I want to know how the hell this got past security. How did a package with a severed head make it through the gate, through the scanners, into my house?" "Sir, we scanned it, but-" "But nothing!" Isaiah snapped. “You let a severed human head into my home. Do I need to explain to you how terribly you failed at your job?" The guards paled, carefully lifting the box and carrying it away. I watched them go, my whole body still trembling.

“He’s right. You don’t know what you want me to do. I can’t know any plans that you have. It’s not safe.” “Isaac!” Lacey says urgently. Her face is stricken with fear and she clutches at his arm. “You can’t go back! He’ll kill you. For just being alive while everyone else is dead, he’ll kill you! You know that!” Again silence settles over the room, broken only by Lacey’s sobs. Isaac tries to comfort her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and pulling her into his chest. But he keeps his eyes on us, like he’s not sure if he can trust us.

A strange looking net. Isaac went to grab it but I stopped him. I threw my silver knife on it and the electricity buzzed at my knife and was drawn to it. "It's electrified." Isaac says. "They took Jackson." I say.