The Runaway Groom

Chapter 342

There was a small white bottle, a switchblade, and a lighter.

None of them were particularly deadly, but with a little work, it could still inflict damage to the human body.

Quincy therefore had to act calm. “We’re in a police station.”

Stan chuckled. “We know that, so we won’t do anything stupid. That said, I’m quite close with that officer just now, so he’s willing to give us some space.”

Quinc’ys face paled, even as Stan took off his tie and stuffed it into her mouth.

Isaac rose to his feet as well, picking up the switchblade and ejecting the blade-it was not particularly huge, but very sharp.

“I can do it, sir,” Stan said, walking up to him.

Isaac, however, stayed silent as he walked around the table toward Quincy and pressed the blade against Quincy’s face.

He just needed to apply little pressure, and the blade would cut through Quincy’s skin.

pupils dilating as her whole

felt like she was meat on the butcher’s table, and it was

all, death was easy-one would not know it

the other hand, spiritual torment certainly left

funeral.” As Isaac spoke, he slid the switchblade from Quincy’s

pressed it, and the

since

studied her medical books, which described at length about a

vulnerable spot especially given the jugular, there was a spot one could reach. there, free from blood vessels but rife with nerves, making it exceedingly

pupils dilated even as she felt death loomed, but her

aside, appeared worried that Isaac would get butterfingers and

looked up at

may be heinous, but she’s not worth getting

suddenly plunged the switchblade into

it out, he gave

whimpering miserably, her

help

and knowledge that Quincy deserved it, he pretended to look sympathetic. Picking up the white bottle, he said, “Oh, poor you.