Twisted Knife Blade Novels & Stories

I’m still having some fun and unleashing all of my repressed fucking rage on them. I stride over to my table of toys. I scan over all the different torture devices as if I were a young kid at a candy store. My eyes widen with a sense of glee as wave my hand over the various whips, blades, saws, and a large bottle of wolfsbane. Don’t want these lower life forms to heal too quickly. My hand stops over a large silver blade. This is a nice blade- nine inches of pure silver, with a serrated edge and sharp point, perfect for fileting meat. With werewolves, we can heal from silver, but if infused with wolfsbane, scars will be left. I think this is an experience Justin should remember…for however lo

Rule number two of this business: know your prey. Mr Allard gets in the driver’s seat and now it’s time to have some fun. While he’s busy turning his phone back on, I carefully pull my best friend from my ankle holster. Crimson – as I like to call her – is an 11” titanium knife with a 5” trailing point blade with a sloping style hilt. I never go anywhere without her and before you ask, yes I call it a ‘she’, how can I not? She’s reliable, durable, gets the job done and is bloody every month. Quickly sitting up, I place the blade of my knife to this throat, while being sure not to nick the skin – that’s not how we’ll be doing this. His body instantly goes rigid as he pushes himself into the s

The twin blade glittered beautifully in the light. Rick was a ticking time bomb and it was best to be prepared. I lifted the crescent shaped blades up and inspected them. Their edges looked really sharp and they were light in my hands. I wasn't joking about wanting to peel off his flesh strip by strip but that could wait, at least until he makes his move. Silver is really pretty.

His knife—a monomolecular blade that could cut through enhanced armor like tissue paper—traced a silver arc toward Griffin's exposed back. Only years of combat training saved Griffin's life. He spun with inhuman grace, the blade grazing his ribs instead of piercing his heart, drawing a line of fire across enhanced skin that healed even as the cut was made. But Twin B's assault didn't pause—he flowed from the missed strike into a grappling maneuver designed to break Griffin's neck with mechanical efficiency.

Pale grain twists through the darker wood, and each handle ends in what looks like a carefully carved piece of bone. The blades themselves are stunning. Intricate patterns ripple through the metal, shimmering with iridescent waves left behind by the forging process. They’re works of art. I carefully lift one from its velvet-lined slot. It settles into my palm as though it was made specifically for my hand. Perfectly balanced. Perfectly weighted. Perfect. “Silver tips,” Lincoln says quietly as I hover my finger over the subtle change in metal near the point. I glance up at him, my fingers hovering over the silver tips. These are beautiful and lethal, designed by someone who knows exactly what

I ducked under his arm and turned fast enough that his blade sliced across my jacket instead of my spine. My hand caught his wrist and I drove my knee into his stomach to make him bend over just enough for me to slam my knife into his throat while I ripped his weapon free. I looked at his weapon and I instantly knew that something was wrong. The blade was too dark and the edge had a slick shine that didn’t belong. Even in the moonlight I could see the coating along the metal and a memory hit me straight away. It was coated in anti-healing toxin. I felt the anger rise in my stomach because these weren’t random leeches and they had come prepared for wolves. They knew what they were doing and t

Like something else had taken over my body. My hand moved to the blades, touching them. I ran my thumb slowly down the cold, sharp edges of the metal, feeling the teeth of the steel. Subconsciously, I was looking for the one with the sharpest point. The one that could cut through flesh without getting stuck. I picked the last one. I paused, feeling it. My fingers locked around the thick carving knife. The handle was black, the blade long and perfectly straight.

Vincenzo pulled out a white hand towel and cleaned up the blood on the knife before dropping it and picking up another one. My eyes widened a little as I saw the blade in his hands. Spyderco Matriarch. Vincenzo rarely used this blade on anyone because in his words 'he wouldn't waste his favorite blade on mere situations.' The blade was only ever seen when the boss was enraged. And I knew the moment was now. I could see that he was barely controlling his rage.

With her powerful wolf healing, I assumed I'd need to cut her open to fix the damage, but for some reason her body hasn't sealed itself shut. "Something is wrong," I frown as I carefully examine her. "She shouldn't be healing so slowly." A glimmer of light shines off a metal surface in the corner of my vision. As I turn and my eyes focus, I see a large, bloody kitchen knife. Reaching underneath a bush, I pull it out and balance it in my hand. It's a solid knife, long and sharp, and by the smell, tipped in wolfsbane. No, worse, hellsbane.

She asked with her eyes twinkling like there's something worth being excited for. I neglected her witty approach and continued touching some different weapons while responding to her. "I can't decide. I don't even know how to use these things, even one of them." She sat on the wooden table with force while swaying her legs. She kept wagging her head while looking at the sky. "Hm..." She murmured. While waiting for her response, I accidentally touched a sharp object approximately twenty-four to thirty centimeters long, and it has a curving shape that starts from the blade ridge to the curved edge which made it looked like too pointed. There is also a metallic silver with brown cord wrap above