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. She felt like she was meat on the butcher's table,