Chapter 115

Riftan's hand tightened around Richard Breston's skull, pressing it against the cold stone wall. "Are you acting on Heimdall's orders?" he hissed.

Breston smirked as his red eyes met Riftan's, goading him. "What do you think?"

Riftan yanked the man's head back by the hair and shoved it against the stone again. Gently, he said, "You are testing my patience."

"You bloody bastard—"

"Don't forget, the bloody bastard is the one holding a knife to your neck," Riftan said evenly, tracing the tip of his dagger beneath the bulge of the man's throat and drawing a thin, crimson line.

Rage flared in Breston's eyes, giving him the impression of a feral beast. Though the northerner seemed to have an unusually tight hold on his anger at the moment, Riftan knew the man would try to reverse the situation the moment the opportunity presented itself.

He sensed Breston shift under his grip, struggling against his restraints like an unruly warhorse.