Chapter 118: The Murder And Doris’s Discovery!
A few minutes before everyone in the tiger tribe knew one of theirs was dead, the elder man entered Soren’s cave.
He saw the leopard tribe chief seated comfortably on his stone chair, drinking wine. It was a fine wine that one of the other tribes had gifted the leopard tribe during the last festival held more than a week ago.
Soren watched the man walk in and he smirked. The expression was cold and calculating.
"Any news?" Soren asked casually, like he was asking about the weather instead of the fate of his plan.
The man dropped to his knees immediately, unable to stand under the weight of his failure.
"Forgive me, chief," the man said desperately. "I tried my best to convince him. I used every argument I could think of. I appealed to his pride. I appealed to his sense of duty to the tribe. But he refused. He just refused to listen to me."
Soren set down his wine glass slowly.
"So, you failed?" Soren asked, his voice still calm and measured.
The man could not admit it directly. He just pressed his lips together, his jaw clenching. The silence was answer enough.
Soren stood up from his seat and walked toward the kneeling man.
The elder wanted to run away. He wanted to scramble backward and flee from the cave. But instead, he just stood up on shaky legs, taking steps back slowly. His survival instinct was screaming at him to escape.
But where would he go? Soren was the chief. Soren had power. Soren had warriors at his command.
Soren reached the man’s shoulder, his hand gripping it firmly.
A calm smile appeared on the chief’s face. It was the kind of smile that made the hair on the back of the elder’s neck stand up. It was not a smile of friendship or kindness. It was a smile of someone who had just made a decision that would change everything.
"Don’t worry," Soren said softly, his voice almost gentle. "I’ll make it painless. If I don’t do this, no one would listen to me. They would think I’m weak. They would think I cannot handle my own tribe problems. So I have to do this."
He turned to one of his guards standing nearby.
"Give me whatever sharp thing you have on you," Soren commanded, stretching his hand out.
The guard hesitated for only a second before handing over a sharp horn that had been turned into a weapon. It was wickedly sharp. Designed to pierce through flesh and bone easily.
"Please chief," the man begged, his voice breaking with desperation. "Please, I’m begging you. Let me go. I won’t tell anyone. I swear it."
But Soren got close to him anyway.
"Don’t beg me now," Soren said, his voice soothing and almost comforting. "You need to calm down. Everything will be fine."
He pulled the man into an embrace. It looked like a gesture of comfort. Like Soren was trying to console the terrified elder.
The man was too scared and tensed to realize what was happening. He did not notice when the sharp dagger was connected into his body.
He did not realize the weapon was being driven deep into his stomach until the pain hit him.
He pulled away from Soren when he felt it. The pain was intense and overwhelming. His entire body was throbbing so hard that he thought he might faint.
"Why?" he asked, looking down at the wound, at his own blood dripping onto the stone floor. "Why are you doing this, Soren? Just to get the attention of the outcasts?"
"A dying beastman has no reason to hear my reasoning," Soren frowned and turned away.
He walked back to his seat and sat down calmly, picking up his wine cup again.
He waved his hand casually, signaling the guards to remove the body.
The guards rushed forward and dragged the dying man out of the cave, leaving a trail of blood on the stone floor. The man choked and gasped as they moved him, his life draining away with each passing second.
By the time they had removed him completely from the cave, he was already dead.
Soren continued drinking his wine like nothing had happened. Like he had not just murdered a man. Like the body being dragged past him meant nothing.
.
Just when the guards had finished cleaning up the blood and taking the body outside, Doris walked into the cave.
"Chief," she called out, fear catching in her throat.
Of course, she had seen the sight of the dead tiger tribe beastman being dragged out. She had seen the blood. She had seen the guards moving quickly to dispose of the evidence.
She understood immediately what had happened. What Soren had done.
"Soren, sweetheart," Soren interrupted her greeting as he reached out and pulled Doris to sit on his lap.
He was drawing her closer to him, forcing her to sit on his legs like she was a possession. Like she was something he owned.
"I’ve been with you all this while, and you’re still calling me chief?" he asked, tilting his head. There was an edge to his voice now. An edge that suggested he was disappointed in her.
"I’m not," Doris said quickly, still thinking about the body that had just been removed from the room. "Forgive me, ch... Soren."
He laughed, a sound that was devoid of any real humor. He pulled her tighter, forcing her to sit properly on his lap. His hand was already moving to her thigh, sliding up her leg slowly.
"I forgive you, darling," he said, his voice dripping with false affection. "I’m sure if I don’t take care of situations like this, Neve and his dangerous crew will. That’s why those tiger tribe members have to do something helpful to pay for their stay here. They owe me. They owe the leopard tribe for our hospitality."
His hand slipped up her thigh, touching her skin directly. She flinched at the contact but did not pull away. She knew better than to resist. Resistance would only make things worse.
"Yes, Soren," she said, her voice small and obedient.
He laughed again, drinking more wine as he held her close to his body. His hand continued its journey up her leg, possessive and controlling.
Doris clenched her fist harder. Her nails dug into her palms, drawing small crescents of pain. But she did not voice her discomfort. She did not resist. She just sat there, enduring his touch, enduring his presence.
Her mind was racing with one single thought that repeated over and over.
’I need to inform Neve about this.’