Claimed by the vampire prince

Chapter 250: Chapter 250

Ragnar did not bother circling the truth or cloaking his intent in false courtesy. He had too much weighing on his mind that he wanted this to be done with already. So he went straight to the point instead of drawing it out.

The bound man blinked at him, as though trying to make sense of everything he had just heard. Confusion creased his brow.

"I—I don’t understand," he stammered, his face scrunching as he stared, bewildered. "I don’t know what you’re asking me. I don’t know anyone named Narfor."

Ragnar’s expression remained calm, almost placid, but a warning flickered in his eyes.

"Are you certain?" Ragnar asked softly. "It would seem my guards may have struck you a little too hard on the head. I ask that you try your best to recall all that you can now. I would hate to discover that you have lied to me."

As he spoke, Ragnar took a single step away from the chair the man was bound to.

The man lifted his chin and met Ragnar’s gaze head-on, stubborn defiance settling into his features. "I don’t know what you’re talking about. I was snatched off the street at night and brought here. That’s all I can tell you. I don’t know anyone called Narfor."

No sooner had the final word left his mouth than the heavy door to the cell creaked open. Two guards stepped inside, chains clinking softly, as they both flanked the imprisoned dignitary on either side.

Ragnar turned his head just enough to glance at the newcomers but his attention never truly left the dignitary. He watched him closely, catching every fleeting change in his expression.

The dignitary’s eyes widened the moment he saw the man bound to the chair. Shock flashed across his face, unguarded and raw. His mouth fell open, and a single word slipped out before he could stop it.

"How?"

"I take it you recognize this man?" Ragnar asked mildly.

The dignitary gave a weak nod, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.

"What is his name?" Ragnar demanded.

From the corner of his eye, Ragnar noticed the way the bound man suddenly went utterly still, how his gaze hardened, staring straight ahead, his face smoothing into a mask devoid of emotion.

The dignitary hesitated. He looked at the man again, then away, as though weighing his own fate. He swallowed again reflexively, fingers curling at his sides.

"Haven’t you grown tired of being kept in a cell?" Ragnar asked quietly. "Tell me, and all of this will finally be over."

The dignitary drew in a shaky breath. "What about my family?" he asked, his eyes lifting to Ragnar’s in a silent plea.

Ragnar understood what the dignitary was asking and for the first time, he chose to acquiesce.

"The Crown will not seize your family’s wealth or titles for your crimes and treachery," Ragnar said. "Everything will pass to your brother, as he remains your lawful heir."

The words were clipped, and far from being comforting.

Still, relief visibly washed over the dignitary. His shoulders slumped slightly as he released a breath he seemed to have been holding. He glanced once more at the bound man.

"You were not supposed to get captured this easily, Jorrit."

The man in the chair let out a sneer.

"Since the both of us will soon be dead," he said coldly, "you may call me Kylo."

Ragnar nodded his head once approvingly. "I appreciate your cooperation. That will be all."

He stepped closer, placing a heavy hand on the dignitary’s shoulder. The gesture might have looked reassuring, if not for what came next.

In a single, fluid motion, Ragnar drew his knife and slashed it across the man’s throat.

Blood sprayed.

The act was so swift that those present barely registered what had happened until crimson poured freely from the wound, soaking the front of the dignitary’s clothes. The guards tightened their grip, holding him upright as he choked, gurgling on his own blood.

Ragnar watched dispassionately as life drained from the man’s eyes. He did not hesitate. He did not feel remorse. Not after what this man had attempted to do to Circe.

Stepping closer, Ragnar wiped the bloodied blade on the dignitary’s sleeve before sliding it back into its sheath.

"Take him away and dispose of the body," Ragnar said coolly. "Then send someone to clean this mess."

The dignitary was already dead by the time the guards dragged him from the cell, the door slamming shut behind them.

Alone once more, Ragnar turned back to the man still bound to the chair.

"Jorrit," he said calmly, "I’ve heard many things about you. Care to share more?"

Jorrit said nothing.

"How long have you worked for Narfor?" Ragnar pressed.

Silence.

Jorrit simply held his gaze, unblinking.

Instead of irritation, a slow smile curved Ragnar’s lips. It was a chilling thing, the kind of smile that stole the air from a man’s lungs and made fear bloom deep in his bones.

"Oh, I will enjoy breaking you," Ragnar said smoothly. His voice carried a dangerous calm, each word measured and deliberate. "When I am done, you will beg for a quick and easy death but it will not come."

He stepped closer, invading what little space remained between them. The faint scrape of his boots against the stone echoed in the chamber. Jorrit did not flinch, he didn’t avert his gaze. He merely looked back at Ragnar with a steady, unblinking stare that bordered on defiance.

When Jorrit finally spoke, it was not to answer Ragnar’s question.

"If it is my fear you seek," he said evenly, his voice low but unwavering, "then you will be greatly disappointed. I have seen and lived through far worse than anything you could possibly do to me." freewebnoveℓ.com

For a heartbeat, the air between them felt taut, as though it might snap.

Ragnar’s lips widened further, the smile sharpening into something cruel and anticipatory.

"We shall see about that," he replied, his voice dropping to a near whisper as he leaned in, close enough for Jorrit to feel the threat radiating from him.