Knife Drop Novels & Stories

It's a small steel knife. AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sorry, been a while. Who else loves knife play?

The neckless bounced and the third hand on the clock moved twice as the large hunter with a braided beard pulled a five-inch blade from his belt and aimed for Kade. “No!” I slide between Kade and the hunter, but it was too late. The knife cut into Kade’s abdomen. It was as if I was possessed again. I kicked the knife out of his hand and smashed my size five sneaker into his knee. I moved faster than anyone else. My mate dropped to the floor and the other hunters quickly took out the other betas. I knocked out the other hunter. He was a big guy but smaller than the other one cradling his broken knee on the floor.

His grip on the steak knife looked like it could snap the metal in two. “You’re making Mina uncomfortable, Father...” Kaiden said, his voice like a thrown grenade. I instinctively held my breath, waiting for Alpha Krugan’s reaction. The big man hurled his steak knife toward Kaiden—without hesitation. And this wasn’t some reckless toss. It was precise. Intentional. Without thinking, I slapped it out of the air. The knife deflected and stabbed into the wall. That alone showed how deadly accurate and powerful the throw was.

"On your knees, traitor." With my hands up, I slowly bent my knees, feeling the weight of the pocket knife strapped to my thighs. A few meters to the ground, I unstrapped the knife on my thighs with a threatening look as I said, "This knife is made of silver," I gritted, holding it out. "A little stab is all it takes, and poof... you're gone." "Let's try that again, shall we?" I said with fiery eyes. "Let. Me. Go."

My eyes scanned the quad, seeing nothing but students. "You got a piece on you?" he asked, already steering Josh a step ahead with a light push. "No. Campus security is too tight. Do you?" He made a show of adjusting his jacket, his hand brushing mine. Something small and cool pressed into my palm. I glanced down. A penknife. A sleek, silver thing, barely three inches long. I scoffed. "Seriously? A penknife?" "It’s what I’ve got," he hissed back. "It could be useful. Unless you’re planning to take the guy out by strangling him with your G-string. Which, just saying, would be insanely hot."

Then I grabbed my sheath for my waist and inserted my seven inch parkerized blade. “Holy Moon Goddess! You look like you are going to war.” Rory squealed. I laughed at her energy. I look over at Aiden who is looking at me with some emotion I cannot name. The last thing I grab is my Kukri Machete. It’s eight inches long and completely black. There is only a thin silver lining along the edge. It’s great for combat, but I am going to slice through some of the targets. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The vengeance-creator is briefly overwhelmed by the wounded animal that wants to bite, right now, even if it means getting crushed. My eyes scan the semi-darkness. No weapon in sight. Volkov isn't stupid. But luxury is full of sharp objects. My gaze rests on the cold breakfast tray, brought and ignored earlier in the night. A butter knife. Not a weapon. A toy. A short, blunt blade with a wrought silver handle. It's laughable. It's perfect. It's the only sharp point in this universe of silk. I hold my breath. The rhythm of his breathing doesn't change. Slow, deep. Asleep.

He questioned. “I…I don’t know.” He replied with a stutter. Kaleb stood up, walking towards the center table. “I don’t expect you to give me an answer quickly.” He spread out a small purse on it. There were different kinds of knives which could deal with people in different kinds of ways. Short, half, long, curved, sharp ends, slightly bent….anyone he chose, anyone he wanted. “No, please…” the man mumbled in horror. “No.” I watched the boring scene. I didn’t have such time to waste on a piece of shit giving the information on another dumb ass like him. But I had to be patient.

“You’re already ordering me around in the kitchen?” “I’m teaching you,” he corrected. “There’s a difference.” Amy muttered a complaint under her breath but stepped up to the counter anyway. Drake leaned back, watching her with the same sharp, calculating focus he used in his underworld meetings. “First thing. Knife control.” He slid a small, wicked-looking utility knife across the counter toward her. Amy picked it up by the handle. “Wrong grip,” he said immediately. She blinked at it. “It’s a knife. How many ways can I hold it?”

And I disliked unknown variables more than enemies. Across from me sat Adrian. Or what remained of his composure. Viktor stood beside him, gun raised casually, the barrel resting against Adrian’s temple with unsettling familiarity. Viktor never wasted motion; his stillness alone was enough to suffocate weaker men. Adrian was already sweating. Good. Fear shortened conversations. I set the tablet aside and reached slowly into my coat pocket. Metal met my fingers. It was familiar, balanced, and perfect. My knife. Custom-forged Swiss steel, designed to my specifications alone. The blade unfolded with a soft, precise click, catching the cabin light. Along its spine, engraved in clean lettering, w