Chapter 39
Varinka, a striking figure at six feet tall, commanded attention with her captivating presence. Her dark brown eyes, smoldering with an unyielding intensity, held a depth that promised both intrigue and danger. Her flaming red hair, a cascade of fiery curls cascading down her back, seemed to radiate a powerful magnetism. Built like a model, she possessed a statuesque silhouette, every curve sculpted to perfection. Her skin, flawlessly smooth and glowing with an inner radiance, was a testament to meticulous care. Her physical attributes, a seductive blend of grace and power, were undeniably voluptuous, hinting at a sensuality that promised to ignite the senses and leave an unforgettable mark on anyone who encountered her.
Many men found themselves captivated by her presence, drawn in by the air of mystery that surrounded her like a shroud. Her piercing gaze, filled with a mix of confidence and defiance, seemed to challenge anyone who dared to look upon her with anything less than complete admiration. Sadly, these qualities lured these men to their doom, as she took pleasure in seeking pain and ultimately destroying those who fell under her spell. Her beauty was a dangerous weapon, one that she wielded with deadly precision, leaving a trail of broken hearts, shattered lives, and even death in her wake. Despite the warnings whispered among the townspeople, no one could resist the allure of the femme fatale who walked among them.
She was known to engage in hunts and even participate in all kinds of dagerous activities, her mind was unstable, and because of that, she sees herself as a Valkyrie maiden, a mythological being who was born to slay the enemies of the gods and bring the chosen warriors to Valhalla. Her beauty was a mask for her true nature—a harbinger of destruction disguised as a seductive siren.
In her mind she was doing the god of war and death a service. She hasn't met a single person that matches her hunger for death; she could smell fear in a person's body. Even Victor was no match for her insatiable desire for battle. She longed for the day when she would face a true warrior worthy of her skills, a challenge that would finally satisfy her craving for combat.
Even if the world were filled with technology, Varinka was simple, as she only trusted her dagger to guide her through the chaos of battle. Her loyalty to her weapon was unwavering, a bond forged in blood and sharpened with every use.
As she opened the only office she was allowed to enter, there was no guard visible in the long hall corridor. It is common practice that the guards are always hidden behind fake walls to gain the element of surprise. Varinka's senses heightened as she cautiously made her way down the corridor. The nine inch bladed dagger she uses is always tucked behind her back leather belt.
Her sports jacket conceals the weapon, allowing her to move undetected.
She never had any training using the dagger. She just trusted her instincts and natural agility to protect herself in any situation that may arise. In her mind, she was an excellent fighter but it was only in non-combatant activities; she hasn't actually faced an opponent in a real life and death situation. Those moments where she was using this dagger were out of temperament and arrogance.
Varinka's personality was well crafted to fit her so called crazy and reckless reputation, but deep down she knew she lacked the true experience and skill needed to survive a real battle. Despite her bravado, there was a lingering fear that one day her luck would run out and she would be forced to confront the harsh reality of her limitations.
As she opened the door at Victor's office, she was surprised by an unexpected scene. The office was simple from the door; the interior of the office was like that from those Asian TV dramas, where it had a receiving area with a large open space and several sofa chairs for visitors. In front of the main desk was a bullet proof window overlooking the surrounding area , while the walls were adorned with traditional artwork and a small personalized bar area was set up in one corner. The overall ambiance exuded an air of elegance and sophistication, making her feel as though she had stepped into a different world altogether. giving the office a serene and elegant atmosphere.
Varinka, with her long and lustrous curled hair, gracefully tied it up in a loose bun as she made her way over to the mini bar. She had been feeling a little parched and desired a refreshing drink to cool down. As she scanned the array of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages, her mind briefly wandered off to the events that had unfolded earlier in the day.
She couldn't help but feel a shiver of excitement run down her spine as she recalled the sight of Victor sitting in his leather chair, behind his grand oak desk, with Catherine Zhang in a kneeling position before him.
Catherine, with her head bowed in deep concentration, had been meticulously working on pleasuring Victor using her mouth, and the sounds of Victor's moans of pleasure filled the room. Varinka had been watching with rapt attention; her annoyance was building with every moan that escaped Victor's lips.
As she poured herself a glass of chilled white wine, Varinka couldn't tear her gaze away from the scene before her. She took a sip of the crisp liquid, savoring the taste as she felt her own desire continue to build. She knew that she wanted more, and she couldn't wait to indulge in the pleasure that Catherine and Victor were experiencing, but in a different manner. Varinka wanted a different moan of sound; she wanted to her hear own moan while a true beast of a man rammed her in pure savagery's.
The air hung thick with unspoken tension as Varinka, her face contorted with a fury that bordered on madness, launched the glass across the room. It arced through the space between them, a jagged missile of crystal and rage, and impacted the wall with a sickening crack. Shards flew everywhere, the sound of shattering glass echoing in the confined space. Victor and I, both startled slowly peeled his eyelids open, his gaze drawn to the source of the commotion. His eyes met Varinka's, a storm of emotion swirling within them—anger, fear, and a deep, abiding pain. He instinctively shielded himself from the falling shards, a silent question forming on his lips,
"What is it, Varinka? What have you done?"
"Tell your fiancee to finish up, and we need to talk."
""Is this about Ivan's death and the only evidence I have in my possession?"
"Here, maybe you have better luck than we have."
Victor opened his desk drawer, took the hunting knife, and threw it toward Varinka , who caught it with a swift movement. She examined the knife closely, her expression unreadable.
"This is a killer knife," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
Varinka could smell that numerous lives were ended with this knife. Compared to her dagger, this 4-inch knife has been used multiple times to commit unspeakable acts of violence. She shuddered at the thought of the bloodshed it had caused, wondering how many more victims had fallen to its blade.
Varinka could feel the pain and suffering lingering and eminating from the knife; this left her aroused with overwhelming desire. Whoever ever used this knife was a true killer. On the handle, it had the small initials carve on it; it was NAH.
Meanwhile, in the midst of tension and anticipation, Catherine Zhang took a deep breath and made the decision to continue satisfying Victor. She gripped his hard shaft firmly and began to swallow it whole, determined to bring him to the brink of ecstasy. Despite the intensity of the situation, Catherine remained calm and composed, focusing solely on the task at hand.
As Victor reached his climax, Catherine felt the familiar sensation of his release. The gooey liquid spilled out, covering her face in a messy display. But Catherine did not falter. She casually reached up to wipe the substance from her face, maintaining her cool demeanor even in the heat of the moment.
Throughout the entire experience, Catherine showed an impressive level of control and finesse. Despite any personal reservations she may have had, she pushed through and delivered a satisfying experience for Victor. Her ability to remain calm and collected, even in the midst of such an intimate act, spoke volumes about her character and her determination to see things through to the end.
Varinka clutched the knife tightly in her hand, its cool metal a stark contrast to the heat pulsing through her veins. The scent of blood, metallic and sharp, clung to the blade, a desperate plea to be reunited with its owner. Unlike Victor, who relied on his quick wit and keen observation, Varinka possessed a unique gift: the ability to feel and sense blood. She could trace its trail, not just visually,
but through a visceral connection that pulsed in her fingertips. With hurried steps, she followed the faint, yet undeniable, thread of crimson that led her through the bustling streets out side the stronghold, the rhythm of her heart echoing the frantic beat of the wounded.
The knife, a silent guide, whispered tales of pain and urgency, urging her forward. Each step was a desperate gamble, a race against time to find the owner before the lifeblood faded. Varinka, fueled by an insatiable need to feed her curiosity about the knife owner , pushed her senses to their limit, her mind a canvas of vibrant red, each shade a different story, each pulse a different pain.
She would find the owner, and she would mend the wound, driven by the innate need that pulsed within her, a symphony of sadistic and violent ways orchestrated by the rhythm of blood memory from the knife.
"This knife has been used by a true master,"
Meanwhile, Nicholas Abelard Haniel was working on the old tractor at his farm when his wife Rebecca came out to see him holding a phone on her right hand and a water container and a towel on her Left. She was smiling as she greeted him with a sweet kiss and handed him a towel to wipe the sweat off his face. while his hands were filled with grease, oil, and dirt.,
" Your sonm just sent a text message saying he is doing fine and is currently working for a logistic company.,"
' I hope nothing bad happens to him while staying there? "
"Don't worry about your son; I trained Ethan with all my survival skills better than those I trained before."
"That boy is a true hunter and a survivor , and he knows how to take care of himself. Just trust that he will be okay out there." Ethan's mother nodded, feeling reassured by the words of her husband.
"Compared to me when I was young , he is far more capable, resilient and resourceful. I have full confidence in his abilities to handle any situation that may arise."
Ethan's father smiled proudly, knowing that his son was well prepared for whatever challenges may come his way.
"This trembling hand could not keep up with time, but that boy has surprised me in every way possible. I have no doubt that he will make us proud." Ethan's mother wiped away a tear, grateful for her husband's wisdom and faith in their son.
As she handed the water container and went back into the house , she couldn't help but feel a sense of peace knowing that Ethan was capable of taking care of himself. With a deep breath, she returned to her daily tasks, confident that her son was ready for whatever the future held.
When Nicolas stared at the sky and uttered the word
"It's time to sharpen, and used those fangs son!"