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.

meat on the butcher’s table, and it

death.

would not know it after

torment certainly left one wishing they

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

gently pressed it, and the blade cut

since he

could be precise, because he had been sneaking glances while Irene studied her medical books, which described at length about a human’s vulnerable spots, where it

the neck was a vulnerable spot especially given the jugular, there was a spot one could reach. there, free from blood vessels

turned pale. Her pupils dilated

had been standing aside, appeared worried that Isaac would get butterfingers and slit

up at him, his expression

be heinous, but she’s not worth getting your

suddenly plunged the switchblade into Quincy’s

gave

whimpering miserably, her facial features contorted from

help shuddering

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