"So, you won't talk?" Zeran asked the man, bound to the chair with silver chains, his face soaked in blood.
Ptui!
That bloodied man spat in Zeran's direction.
"Aren't you ashamed? Tying up your enemy like this just to beat him? What are you, a damn street thug? Has Lycan grown so weak it can't fight fair anymore?"
Bam!!
Zeran slammed his fist into the man's jaw.
"You'd die the second we fought hand to hand. Your half-blood wolf strength is pathetic against mine." He grabbed a fistful of the man's hair, forcing him to meet his eyes. "And a corpse doesn't talk." Then he shoved his face away.
Zeran took a towel from his underling and wiped the blood off his hands.
"Now talk! Who's your mastermind?" His gaze was sharp enough to cut.
"You know who it is. Your crazy little slut! She paid me!"
Zeran turned his neck slowly, stretching it out as if trying to shake off the tension, then sighed in annoyance.
