At that moment, without a shred of hesitation, Samuel lunged toward Oliver, his face twisted with desperation. He swung his arm back, ready to deliver a punch, but Oliver's movements were like lightning. In one swift motion, he intercepted Samuel's strike mid-air, gripping his wrist with a force that made Samuel's bones creak. With a sharp twist, Oliver wrenched Samuel's arm behind his back. A sickening jolt of pain shot through Samuel's shoulder and down his spine, forcing a scream from his lips.
Before Samuel could process the agony, Oliver's knife flashed. The blade plunged into Samuel's hand with surgical precision, the metal sinking deep into flesh. But Oliver didn't just stab, he twisted the blade slowly, deliberately, in a way that made Samuel's nerves scream louder than his voice. The cut was so precise, so controlled, that blood didn't gush only a thin, dark trickle oozed along the steel.
