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.

only whimper, her pupils dilating as

like she was meat on the butcher’s table, and it was even more terrifying

was easy-one would not know it after the

certainly

Isaac spoke, he slid the switchblade from Quincy’s face to her neck,

gently pressed it, and the blade cut through Quincy’s

since he avoided

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

jugular, there was a spot one could reach. there, free from blood vessels but

was already sweating buckets as her face turned pale. Her pupils dilated even as she felt death loomed,

would get butterfingers and slit her

looked up at him,

may be heinous, but

switchblade into Quincy’s shoulder even before he could

out, he gave Stan a look. “Don’t

whimpering miserably, her facial features contorted from

not help

that Quincy deserved it, he pretended to look sympathetic. Picking up the white bottle, he said,