Chapter 147: Traces
I push myself to my feet, cradling Grape against my chest, and make my way back toward the village, determination blazing through me like wildfire. My mind races with possibilities and plans, each more desperate than the last, but I know one thing for certain: we need answers, and we need them now.
As I enter the village clearing, I spot Roman in the middle of an interrogation, politely questioning an elderly couple. His approach has clearly yielded nothing useful. It’s time to change tactics.
"Roman, that’s enough," I call out, my voice hard and commanding. "Bring the village head. We’re done playing nice."
Roman’s demeanor shifts instantly. The polite, diplomatic front he’d been wearing vanishes, replaced by a cold, ruthless expression. He nods curtly, and within moments, an old man is dragged forward and placed in front of me. I don’t like treating elders especially the weak this way; it leaves a bitter taste in my mouth. But if it gets us the information we need, I’m willing to make an exception.
Our forceful actions have drawn a crowd. The villagers gather, wide-eyed and fearful, whispering anxiously among themselves. My men, always eager to demonstrate their loyalty and power, unsheath their swords in a synchronized motion. It’s an unnecessary display, more theater than anything, but it has the desired effect. Gasps ripple through the crowd, and terror blooms on their faces.
Kindness and diplomacy didn’t work, but fear will. It always does.
The village head’s fear is palpable as he meets my gaze. His eyes flicker with desperation and determination, but I press on, refusing to relent.
"You see, we’ve spent all morning asking, and none of you claim to remember anything," I say, my voice edged with barely restrained frustration. I crouch down to his level, making sure he can see the fury simmering in my eyes.
"I’m not a fucking idiot, alright? The beautiful man you all must have seen two years ago—the one we’re asking about? That’s my omega. My husband. And I’m running out of patience."
The village head’s eyes widen slightly, but he grits his teeth, his voice defiant. "Go on then—kill me!" he spits, his bravado hanging by a thin thread. I scoff and rise to my feet, turning my attention to the gathered crowd. They’re hanging onto every word, fear etched into their faces.
"I’m sure you all heard me," I announce, my voice booming. "I’m looking for my omega, and I know without a shadow of a doubt that he was here. You think I’m going to kill you if you keep lying to me?" I pause, allowing the silence to deepen, my lips curving into a cold smile. "No, no, I’m far more creative than that. See those fields outside your village? I wonder how long you’d last if they went up in flames. Imagine winter coming without a single grain left to harvest. Imagine starving this winter."
Gasps echo throughout the crowd, and I let the threat linger, savoring the shift in the villagers’ expressions—from defiance to pure terror.