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.

whimper, her pupils dilating as her whole

table, and it was even more terrifying than the prospect of

was easy-one would

torment certainly left one

me into that pond during my own parents’ funeral.” As Isaac spoke, he slid the switchblade from Quincy’s face to her neck, and she did not move

and the blade cut through Quincy’s

not bleed much since he avoided any arteries-but it

could be precise, because he had been sneaking glances while Irene studied her medical books, which described at length about a human’s vulnerable spots, where it hurt or had

neck was a vulnerable spot especially given the jugular, there was a spot one could reach. there, free from blood

Quincy was already sweating buckets as her face turned pale. Her pupils

worried that Isaac would get butterfingers and slit her throat. Walking up, he

at him,

but she’s not

the switchblade into Quincy’s shoulder even before

he gave

her facial features contorted

help

pretended to look sympathetic. Picking up the white bottle,