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

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

was easy-one would not know

the other hand, spiritual torment certainly left

pond during my own parents’ funeral.” As Isaac spoke, he slid the switchblade from Quincy’s

pressed it, and the blade cut

did not bleed much since he avoided any arteries-but

books, which

one could reach. there, free from blood vessels but rife

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

who had been standing aside, appeared worried that Isaac would get butterfingers and slit her throat. Walking up, he

up at him,

trying. “She may be heinous, but

into Quincy’s shoulder even

he pulled it out, he gave

miserably, her facial features contorted

not help shuddering

that Quincy deserved it, he pretended to look sympathetic. Picking up the white bottle, he said, “Oh, poor you. Don’t