novel bin Chapter 805 Volkov's questions
Chapter 805 Volkov's questions
Chapter 805 Volkov's questions
In the warmth of a room, a man sank into a plush chair, relishing the softness against his skin as he held a delicate crystal flute filled with champagne.
As he took a leisurely sip, the effervescent liquid shimmered under the chandeliers' glow, delighting his senses.
Impeccably dressed waiters glided through the room, effortlessly balancing trays of mouthwatering culinary creations.
With respectful nods, they approached the man and laid out a tempting spread of delicacies: from elegant canapes to juicy, grilled seafood.
With a discerning eye, he selected a few, taking note of the delicate arrangement of colors and textures before indulging in their taste.
The champagne continued to flow, the food never ceased to arrive. That was until someone arrived and whispered something in his ears.
Volkov gave a nod, signaling his intent to leave. The moment he stood up, the music came to an abrupt halt, and a palpable stillness settled over the room.
As the musicians caught his gaze, their bodies tensed, their eyes filled with fear that shimmered like a trembling string after a note has been played.
Without exchanging a single word, he spun around and left the room, the sound of his footsteps lingering in the extravagant hallway.
The grandeur of the setting faded into the background as he walked, his path taking him through a series of ornate corridors. Nêww chapters will be fully updated at novelhall.com
The walls, adorned with tapestries and paintings that spoke of power and conquest, seemed to watch him pass silent witnesses to the journey.
Volkov reached a narrow staircase, its descent shrouded in shadows.
As he descended further, the once bright light from above diminished, until he was swallowed by the shadows of near darkness.
The air grew cooler, and the ambiance shifted from the lavishness of the upper floors to a more austere, underground world.
At the bottom of the stairs, he entered a dimly lit room. The illumination was sparse, provided by flickering lights that cast long shadows across the walls.
The atmosphere crackled with a silent energy, the room's purpose etched into its bare, minimalist design.
"My men said you may be ready to talk."
Volkov's commanding stature dominated the scene, as his shadow stretched long and dark, casting an eerie atmosphere.
Before him stood a man, his body covered in heavy chains and bearing the gruesome marks of a prolonged and brutal torture session.
The dim light highlighted the streaks of dried blood and the fresh wounds that crisscrossed his flesh, telling tales of unspoken atrocities.
The man's face bore the unmistakable marks of agony and weariness, yet a defiant spark shone in his eyes, refusing to be extinguished.
With a sudden jerk, the man mustered up his last ounce of energy and, with a scornful glance, expelled a glob of spit onto the ground.
The sight of blood and saliva mingling on the cold stone floor between them made their confrontation even more intense.
The man swallowed hard, his throat dry. "I... I provided false coordinates, led them to believe Becker would be in a different location. However, that had been useless since they found him, anyway. But I never saw who sent the instructions. They were always careful."
Volkov nodded. The room fell silent for a moment, the only sounds the ragged breathing of the chained man and the distant echo of footsteps in the corridor outside.
"And the ones trying to catch him? Who killed them?" Volkov leaned closer, his eyes never leaving the man's face.
"I don't know who killed them." The man's voice was barely above a whisper, defeat etching deeper into his features.
"I was told to divert the group, and that's all I did to at least make Becker gain some time. I had no part in what happened to them afterward. Whoever helped him tried to kill me as well."
Volkov straightened, his expression contemplative. The confession, while significant, left more questions unanswered, more threads to untangle.
"You realize the gravity of your actions," he said, more a declaration than a question. "Your interference led to the deaths of your comrades, a betrayal that cost dearly."
The chained man nodded. "I understand," he said, resignation lacing his words. "I was wrong. But my daughter, she's innocent. Please..."
Volkov turned away, signaling the end of their conversation. "Your cooperation has been noted," he said, his voice devoid of any compassion. "As for your daughter, her fate will depend on the further usefulness of your information."
"NO! PLEASE! NO! LEAVE BRITTNEY ALONE!"
...
...
...
After his encounter with the chained man, Volkov returned to the comfort of his room. He got what he wanted, as the man confessed.
Although he claimed ignorance regarding the identity of Becker's helper, the mere existence of this information held great significance.
There were still allies of Becker in the country. However, it looked like they belonged to two groups. The mystery remained as to who these allies actually were, and that was a question he needed answers to.
As he settled back in his chair, the weight of the intense interrogation room lifted off his shoulders, and he embraced the tranquility of his lavish surroundings.
Apart from the butler, who stood at the edge of the room, ready to obey any command, there was no other person present.
Volkov, with an air of sophistication, twirled the remnants of his champagne in the exquisite crystal flute, then caught the butler's attention and made a commanding gesture.
"Bring me my phone." The butler, well-versed in the nuances of his employer's demands, nodded and left the room.
In just a few moments, he came back into the room, holding the sleek, black device with both hands. Volkov accepted it with a nod, his expression hardening as he contemplated the call he was about to make.
The butler, understanding that Volkov was about to make a call that he had no right to hear, retreated to the background without uttering a single word.
Volkov unlocked the phone, his fingers navigating to the contacts.
His gaze distant, he hesitated for a moment, contemplating his decision, before dialing the number for the Blackguards.