As soon as the messenger uttered the words "an unbelievably beautiful woman," a wide grin spread across Ragnar's face - almost childlike in excitement.
But there was nothing innocent about it.
It was the smile of a man who'd just been told fate had handed him a new trophy - something shiny to place beside the rest, something to display as proof of his dominance.
He strode out of the lounge with quick, confident steps. His boots echoed against the marble hallway floor - where professors had once discussed grants and conferences, and where now the walls bore smears of blood and the handprints of fleeing students.
Two of his men followed, but Ragnar wasn't listening.
He was already imagining her.
He hoped she'd be proud. Arrogant. The type who looked down on others like the world belonged to her.
Because those were the most satisfying to break.
As for the other two?
An old man with a cane? Some average guy?
Ragnar scoffed under his breath.
