"Haahh.... hah... that damn.... old fucker..."
Nikolai's body ached like all hell, his arms and abdomen throbbing as if someone had struck him with metal bars. He closed his eyes with a sigh, trying to focus his gaze through a swollen eye. The back of Alaric Drago faded into the darkness.
'So my hunch they want me alive was right...'
Blood. His blood, that's what it came down to... nothing else. The Nosferatu were hunting the Volkov family, and thus likely other ancient families, to take advantage of their bloodlines.
'Do they know about my divine bloodline?'
The pain from being unilaterally beaten sank into his bones. His humiliation burned just like the sharp ache in his ribs. Was he really this weak? Even though it was his plan... Surely he could have protected himself if more skilled.
Nikolai bit down on his tongue, wanting to avoid complaining, showing his pain in front of the women who expected more of him. Yet that's when he felt doubt...
