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.

could only whimper, her pupils dilating as her

on the butcher’s table, and it was

would

certainly left

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

the blade cut

much since he

could be precise, because he had been sneaking glances while Irene studied her medical books, which described at

one could reach. there, free from

pale. Her pupils dilated even as she felt death loomed, but her mind somehow remained

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

looked up at

be heinous, but she’s not worth getting your

into Quincy’s shoulder

it out, he gave

miserably, her facial features contorted

help

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