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.

Quincy could only whimper, her pupils dilating as her whole body stiffened.

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

death.

all, death was easy-one would not know it after

torment certainly left one wishing

the switchblade from Quincy’s face to her neck, and

pressed it, and the

since

he had been sneaking glances while Irene studied her medical books, which described at length about a human’s vulnerable spots,

there was a spot one

her face turned pale. Her pupils dilated

appeared worried that Isaac would get butterfingers and slit her

up at him, his

“She may be heinous, but she’s not worth getting your

switchblade into Quincy’s shoulder even before he could

out, he gave

whimpering miserably, her facial features contorted from

could not help

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