Alpha's replacement bride is destined mate-Chapter 35 Interrogation

Klaus slammed the door shut, and his deliberate movement jolted the prisoner out of his stupor in the iron chair. Peter struggled to open his red and swollen eyes, looking around alertly for the source of the sound.

"Your name is Peter, isn’t it?" Klaus walked slowly towards the prisoner and dimmed the lamp overhead, plunging the room into instant shadows.

The prisoner, Peter, peered up at Klaus and said weakly, "I’ve told you everything I know. What else do you want from me?"

"I’ve reviewed your file," Klaus replied, pulling a chair and sitting down in front of the prisoner. He scrutinized Peter through his sunglasses. "You used to be a member of the royal special forces. I’ve heard you excelled in training and were even rewarded."

Peter lifted his head and squinted at Klaus. "That’s all in the past now."

"Did you carry out the bombing in the square?"

"Yes," Peter admitted. "I’m a fucking outcast. I have nothing left. I hate the royal family. I want them all buried."

Klaus sneered. "Your words sound like they’ve been rehearsed."

"You can’t comprehend my pain," Peter spat. "I served the royal family loyally, but I ended up with nothing. And that damn captain even threatened to banish me from the capital, telling me to go out and beg for food like a vagabond."

"So, that’s your motive for seeking revenge against the royal family?" Klaus was well aware that members of the special forces served the royal family. They were an elite group, handpicked from various tribes, who severed ties with their original tribes the moment they swore allegiance to the Special Forces. Once expelled from the royal household, if no other tribe would accept them, they would be left with the same uncertain fate as the Rogues.

This reason seemed plausible and would likely go unnoticed by a typical interrogator. But Klaus was not your average interrogator. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

"Would you like a cigarette?" Klaus withdrew his cigarette case, plucked out a cigarette, lit it with a lighter, and offered it to Peter.

Although Peter couldn’t fathom the true purpose behind Klaus’s gesture, he was wracked with torment, and cigarettes were a luxury he wouldn’t refuse, even on his deathbed.

Peter opened his mouth to accept the cigarette, and then took a deep drag, the smoke seeping deep into his lungs and escaping through his nostrils. Sometimes, a cigarette held more allure for a man than a voluptuous woman, and the tension in his facial muscles eased slightly as he exhaled halfway through the puff.

"So, Peter," Klaus asked, "as a member of the special forces, why did you spend a full twenty minutes changing clothes?"

Peter looked stunned, and before he could react, the cigarette slipped from his mouth and clattered to the floor. Klaus stamped out the burning cigarette with his foot and suddenly grabbed Peter by the hair, yanking him backwards.

"You did this deliberately, didn’t you?" Klaus’s demeanor remained unchanged from their previous interaction; his voice was cold, his movements rough.

"Because of you, my Luna was not only terrified, but she was also injured in the explosion." Klaus growled, "I have a hundred ways to torture you, but I refuse to waste my time on you."

"Let’s settle this in the simplest and most direct manner."

Klaus released his grip and, in the next instant, revealed his sharp wolf’s claw, sneering as he thrust it towards the prisoner’s chest, halting mere inches from piercing his heart.

"You must not have experienced the sensation of having your heart crushed, have you?" Klaus’s tone was as menacing as death itself, whispering into the prisoner’s ear, "When the heart leaves the body, a werewolf’s brain consciousness lingers for ten seconds. During those ten seconds, you will watch as I crush your heart in my hand."

"No, no!" Peter cried out in agony, "Please, stop."

"Tell me, who instructed you to do this?"

"I can’t, I can’t tell you," Peter pleaded, blood streaming down his chest.

Klaus knew he had to extract the truth before the prisoner bled out. Without hesitation, he clasped the prisoner’s heart with his wolf’s claw.

Peter’s eyes bulged, and he screamed under Klaus’s pressure, "It was the West!"

"Who?" Klaus demanded, "Give me a name."

Peter’s face paled, his body convulsing violently, and then his head lolled back, momentarily breathless.

Cursing, not anticipating the seizure, Klaus yanked his wolf’s paw away from the prisoner’s chest, and blood from his claw dripped onto the floor.

Meiss, who had been standing in the adjacent room and had witnessed the entire ordeal, clasped his hands over his heart, feeling a chill run down his spine.

...

In the council chamber, King Famer sat at the center, his expression darkening as he listened to the reports from Klaus and Meiss.

"So, do you believe Western spies were behind this bombing?" Famer asked. "Could it be that Western forces have infiltrated the royal family’s special forces?"

"After our investigation, we discovered that the prisoner named Peter was, in fact, a spy planted by the West," Meiss informed the king. "We suspect he was deliberately apprehended to give his accomplices time to flee."

"Revenge against the royal family is merely a facade; his true objective was to sabotage the alliance between the North and the South, and..." Meiss trailed off.

"What else?" Famer inquired.

"And to kill me," Klaus spoke up, having remained silent for a while.

"You?" A keen gaze settled on Klaus. "It seems you’ve already surmised who the true mastermind is?"

"Who else in the West would want me dead but Elijah?" Klaus said, his tone frigid.

"It is said that the boy with the broken hand has driven his brother out of the royal capital, and now many tribes in the West rally behind him as their wolf king," Meiss informed him of what he had learned.

Famar frowned. "A boy who has just seized power dares to make himself our enemy."

"The alliance between the North and the South has isolated the West, perhaps that’s why he’s acting out," Meiss argued his point.

"I don’t think he’s scared," Klaus countered, knowing his former rival well. "He’s provocative."

"Whatever the reason, you must uncover the remaining Western spies," Famar said angrily. "I intend to gut those damned spies and dump their bodies on the western border."

"Klaus, I’ll leave this matter to you. Meiss will assist you," the king ordered.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Klaus replied.

After Klaus and Meiss had left the room, King Famar sat deep in thought. On one hand, he was troubled by the presence of Western spies in the kingdom, and on the other, the bombing was bound to cause unrest among the people. It was now imperative to stabilize the people’s minds while rooting out the spies.

Maybe it’s time to name a crown prince, Famar thought to himself. But he had two sons; whom should he crown as the heir?