CHAPTER EIGHT

"What is it, Father?" he asked, turning to face his father, who gave him a displeased look.

Lord Ericson entered the room and scanned it with his eyes. "Son of a bitch! Instead of finding the blood ring as we hoped, you choose to consort with the servants?!" he yelled.

"I will find it, Father."

"You better, or else I'll throw you into the dungeon for wasting my time. I'm doing everything within my power to ensure you become king, and you should be doing the same," Lord Ericson said with a disapproving look, squinting at his son.

"I will, Father," the prince replied nonchalantly, averting his gaze from his father.

Before he could react, his father forcefully grabbed his face and turned it towards him, staring directly into his eyes.

"Do. Not. Test. Me!" his father seethed, tightening his grip on his son's cheeks, causing grunts and bone cracks to fill the room.

He released his hold, coldly watching as his son worked his jaw and sighed in relief.

Rohan gave his father a cold, disdainful look, smirking. Deep inside, he loathed his father, but he knew better than to express it openly, as the old man was feared by everyone, including the council members.

"Yes, Father," he said, seething with anger, as his father nodded without a hint of guilt on his face.

"Clean up your mess and meet me downstairs. Do not disgrace me," his father commanded, turning to leave. "Please wash off that filthy stench from your body. Royals don't stink," he commented before exiting the room.

Prince Rohan waited until his father was out of sight, then clenched his fist so tightly that his knuckles turned white and his nails cut through his flesh, causing blood to drip from his hand.

He kicked the large-sized bed so hard that it flew across the room and collided with the wall, creating a loud noise. Ignoring the damage, Prince Rohan grabbed a vase and smashed it against the wall, cursing at his father.

"My Prince..."

"What?!" His head snapped towards the door, anger building up inside him, ready to explode on the person who had spoken.

His eyes filled with anger, turning bloody red. His fangs elongated, as did his claws. His current state would frighten anyone up close.

"I'm sorry, my prince," the maid quickly inclined her head, shivering in fear. She was scared for her life, and although she was a vampire as well, engaging in a confrontation with a vampire noble would be unwise.

Knowing her fate would be grim if she dared to challenge him, she lowered her gaze, tears welling up in her eyes, not daring to meet his gaze.

"Speak and stop wasting my time!" Prince Rohan roared at her, then turned back to the window, resting his head against the wall with his hands placed beside him.

"Yes, my prince," the maid hastily replied, straightening up. She gazed at his back in awe, her mind flooded with inappropriate thoughts. Snapping out of her trance, she quickly averted her eyes. "Lord Ericson has ordered me to stay behind and clean up your mess," she informed him.

"Well then, get to it," Prince Rohan said, without sparing her another look, as he walked towards the bathroom, leaving the maid with a displeased expression, scrutinizing the mess in the room.

...

The coffee shop was filled with moans and grunts as the dimly lit office contained only Liam and one of Avery's co-workers. They seemed oblivious to everything, engaged in passionate kissing.

Liam breathed in the scent of her lustrous hair, feeling satisfied. The woman closed her eyes and smiled, relishing the touch of his lips on her neck.

"I want you so badly," she whispered softly, barely audible. But Liam seemed to have heard, as he began to unbutton his shirt slowly, while still kissing her.

Suddenly, the office door swung open, and the two abruptly turned their gaze towards it, like two children caught in the act.

"Who are you, and what are you doing in my office?" Liam yelled at the intruders as they entered.

Two men with scars on their faces and icy, cold eyes walked in. They exuded an aura of power as they strode in, appearing imposing and dangerous.

One had brown hair, while the other had black hair. The brown-haired man had a scar on the side of his face, emitting a more deadly aura compared to his partner, who seemed less threatening.

The female companion of Liam stared at them fearfully, confused about the situation. Initially, she had thought it might be a planned encounter, but hearing Liam's question, she realized he didn't know who the men were.

The black-haired man locked eyes with her, maintaining a steady gaze. She met his gaze, feeling a sense of unease. He furrowed his brow and glanced at the door before looking back at her.

As if understanding the unspoken message, she hastily grabbed her clothes and fled the office, leaving the three men behind. Even as Liam attempted to hold her hand to prevent her from leaving, she shrugged him off.

"You're fucking fired!" Liam shouted in frustration, watching the girl leave without a second glance. "Who are you, and why are..."

However, before he could finish his sentence, the man with brown hair grabbed him and forcefully pinned his head to the table, his left hand securing Liam's right hand behind his back. "We'll be doing the talking," the man said coldly.

The other man reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. Approaching the table, he slammed it down next to Liam.

"Tell us who she is," he demanded, showing no concern for his partner's actions.

The man loosened his grip on Liam's head, allowing him to take a closer look at the sketch of a girl on the paper, though he didn't release him entirely.

"Who is she?" Liam asked, gazing at the sketch.

Without a doubt, he knew exactly who the girl in the picture was, but he hesitated to reveal it. He wanted to know who these men were and their intentions. Since Avery wasn't one to cause trouble, perhaps they had come with good intentions.

"Our intel suggests she works here, in your coffee shop," the black-haired man spoke in a gentle tone, despite his expression indicating otherwise.

"You're mistaken! I don't know her!" Liam denied, shaking his head vigorously. "Tell me who you are! Why are you attacking me?" he demanded.

The black-haired man stepped closer to Liam, swiftly grabbing his right hand. In one swift motion, he grabbed Liam's middle finger and bent it backward at an impossible angle.

A popping sound resonated through the room as Liam let out a shrill cry, tears streaming down his cheeks. He stared at his broken finger, blood dripping from the exposed bone.

The black-haired man seized another finger. "Let's try again, shall we?" he said calmly, a friendly tone disguising his expression. "Please tell us if you recognize the..."

"Yes! Yes, I know her!" Liam cried out before the black-haired stranger could finish his sentence. Wincing from the pain of his broken finger and his uncomfortable position, he pleaded, tears in his eyes. "Her name is Avery. I'll tell you everything you need to know about her, but please, don't kill me."

"Then talk," the black-haired man responded, ready to listen to Liam's information.