Novel & Cerita The Knife Of Never Letting Go

"The stone you stole from Lorenzo. Where's it? Do you have it here with you or is it in Sao Paulo? Where's it now?" "I don't know what you're talking about? Let me go!" I took my pocket knife out and said, "This is not some illegal knife. It's a permitted one. Do you know what a permitted knife means? If I stab anyone using this knife saying that another person tried to assault me, I can get away easily without any arrest or court trial. What do you want me to do? Shall I scratch you on the face or should I stab you in your body? Tell me, where do you want to get stabbed?"

His voice was hoarse with panic. Ashton leaned against the podium, crossing his arms as he watched with a satisfied smirk. "What do you think, love? Should we believe him?" I chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "Believe him?" I crouched down to Denver’s level, staring into his terrified eyes. "You don’t get to negotiate your way out of this. You sealed your fate the second you thought you could steal from me and live to tell the tale." I reached behind me and pulled out my new favorite knife—a sleek, curved blade with an obsidian handle. The blade glinted under the chandelier’s light, sharp enough to split a soul in two.

I moved around the room and went to the place where I had dropped my stuff. I opened my small pack and took out the gun. Then slowly I paced back to the bed and aimed at her.She wanted a knife, you monster, my sense of honor screamed. It was right.I went back to the pack, left the pistol, and got my best knife. It was slick and sharp, made from a meteorite, and cost as much as a car. But it was worth it. I looked at it. It was only for special cases.I moved back toward the bed and stood next to her head.I lowered myself and pressed the blade to her neck.

If Simon dared to do anything to her that night, she would stab him in the heart. They could just die together, for all she cared. There was nothing in this world that meant anything to her anymore. After hiding the dagger, Ivory summoned Wilson. She said weakly, "Hold out your hand." He frowned, seemingly not used to her being so weak. Still, he did as told. She lowered her head and bit his palm hard again. This would be the last time she did this, but it wouldn't be because he'd abandoned her. This time, she was the one leaving him behind.

It was Pierce’s head on a platter. "I got it," I whispered, a surge of adrenaline making me feel lightheaded. "I actually got it." I clutched the folder to my chest and turned to run back to the door. I could almost feel the victory, the sense that for the first time, we were the ones holding the knife. Clack. The sound was sharp and final. I froze. I looked at the heavy steel door. The electronic lock had engaged; a red light now glowed where it had been green. I ran to it and yanked the handle, but it wouldn't budge.

BLADE Chapter One Emiliana's POV At the moment, the only thing on my mind was how to get out of this tight, exposing, goddamn wedding dress. The driver pulled over at a huge mansion. The bodyguards alighted and opened the car door for us. I stepped down and turned back, expecting my husband to step out of the car but he stepped out from the other side and slammed the door shut. I was startled by his action. Then he began to walk inside without waiting for me.

Gracie and Gunner cruise down highway sixteen in the jeep with the top off. She takes a left at highway forty-six savoring the hilly, winding, curving road. The scenic view of mostly hills and some houses brings joy to Gracie’s mind. The sun is shining down on her while the wind is blowing her hair. The woman glances in the rear view mirror at her beautiful dog sitting happily in the backseat. His black and brown fur gently moves from the wind, his harness is attached to the seat belt to keep him safe and secure. His loving brown eyes focus on hers as she looks at him. Gunner is the light of Gracie’s life, her pride and joy, her best companion. She continues to drive the highway marveling wh

I almost laughed—almost—but the shadows stretching under the door dragged the sound back down my throat. Arden glanced at them too. His hand slipped behind his back and came back holding a blade—silver, thin, wicked. “Where—?” “Don’t ask.” “You walk around with a knife?” “Yes.” “That’s not normal.” “Neither are you,” he muttered. I didn’t argue. The hallway creaked again. Closer this time. Arden’s body moved before his mind did—instinct snapping through him. He grabbed my waist, pulling me flush against him.

“I’m not ready. It’s too personal and I need to sit with it a little longer.” Lora watched me for a long moment. The playful smile faded into something resembling annoyance. “Okay,” she said finally, holding up her hands. “No pressure. But when you’re ready… I’m here. Always. You know that, right?” She hugged me goodnight then slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind her. I let out a shaky breath and reopened my laptop. The folder titled “Never Publish” stared back at me. I hovered the cursor over the article for a long time, thumb brushing the trackpad.

I saw red and was going to quench it. "I...beg .... please....not...this... knife..." And that's when I see the beautifully engraved knife in my hand. It was something I had never seen. The blade was black unlike the usual and it seemed to be coated with something.The smell sickening but I didn't cared. He has to die. Tightening my grip on the knife, I move it near his neck. "Any last wishes?" I ask. "Please...." "Wrong answer" "Remember the one name that will be written down in pages of history."