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

was meat on the butcher’s table, and it

death was easy-one would

the other hand, spiritual torment certainly

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

gently pressed it, and the blade

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

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

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

get butterfingers and

at him, his

“She may be heinous, but

switchblade into Quincy’s shoulder even before

he gave Stan a look. “Don’t disappoint

miserably, her

not help shuddering and

sympathetic. Picking up the white bottle, he