Fangless: The Alpha's Vampire Mate
Chapter 177: The Spell Breaker

Chapter 177: The Spell Breaker

From the very beginning, this had been Emperor Kaan’s plan. His seemingly pointless questions weren’t meant to reveal new information but to measure just how far Emmanuelle could stretch the truth.

Once the truth potion coursed through her veins, he’d know precisely what questions to ask.

She resisted with the desperation of someone fighting for their life. Thrashing wildly, she slammed her body backward, struggling to evade the vial in Sir Roderick’s hand.

Using her shoulders and legs, she scrambled across the floor, her voice cracking as she pleaded, "Please... no... don’t do this to me... please..."

Her legs flailed in the air as the knights grabbed her, forcing her down, preventing her from escaping their grip.

"NO!!! Let me go! Let me go!" Her screams echoed through the chamber, her panic raw and palpable.

Sir Roderick, who had never been a man of cruelty, winced at the scene before him. Though he served Emperor Kaan, his soft-hearted nature made moments like these unbearable.

He hesitated, but the emperor’s command held more weight than his own empathy. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed Emmanuelle’s face, pressing her cheeks hard until her mouth opened. It was an act he despised, but there was no turning back now.

"You only have to tell the truth," Sir Roderick said, his voice gentler than his actions. "Tell the truth, and we’ll let you go. I’ll have the knights escort you home—unharmed. I promise." He poured the thick, purple liquid into her mouth.

Emmanuelle fought to the last second. "No... mph!!" Her words disintegrated into incomprehensible sounds as the liquid slid down her throat.

From his seat, Emperor Kaan watched the scene with calm detachment, resting his cheek against his knuckle.

"Roderick," he said in a low, almost bored tone, "you shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep."

Sir Roderick blinked, startled. "But, Your Majesty... we are going to let her go, aren’t we?"

Before the emperor could respond, Emmanuelle began to cough violently, her body convulsing as she tried to expel the potion from her lungs. But it was too late—she had swallowed every drop.

Tears streamed down her face as she writhed, her voice hoarse from pleading.

"Please... don’t do this... I beg you... have mercy... please..."

Emperor Kaan crossed his arms, his expression unmoved. Patience was a virtue he possessed, but only when it served his larger plans. Waiting for Emmanuelle to calm down would achieve nothing, so he cut straight to the point.

"Were you involved in the dark magic practiced within the royal palace during your service to the late Queen Isodle?"

Emmanuelle’s lips trembled, quivering as if caught in a battle between her mind and body. She clenched her jaw, groaning softly as she bit down hard, trying to keep her mouth from betraying her. But her body rebelled, and the truth slipped through in the form of a small, reluctant nod.

It was a simple question, after all. One everyone already knew the answer to. Rumors of her involvement had long circulated—why else would she be plagued by nightmares about dark magic?

Even if she hadn’t performed the spells herself, she must have known something, some dangerous secret buried deep in the palace walls.

"Please... Your Majesty... please stop..." she whimpered, her voice barely a whisper, trembling with fear.

But Emperor Kaan was not a man known for mercy. His smirk deepened, eyes glinting with cold amusement.

"We’re not done yet," he said, his tone low and domineering. He leaned forward slightly, watching her unravel. "You weren’t working alone, were you? Who did you help with the dark magic?"

The question struck like a dagger. Emmanuelle’s breath hitched, her eyes wide with panic. The truth potion was still coursing through her veins, and though she fought with all her might, the answer was clawing its way to the surface.

Emmanuelle shook her head violently, sobbing and wailing desperately. Blood seeped from her lips as she bit down too hard, trying to muffle the truth that almost escaped her throat.

"Urrgghhh!!!" she cried, fighting to keep her mouth closed, but it was as if her body had betrayed her—her lips parted, and her tongue involuntarily pushed forward.

"Uargh!!"

"Answer me." Emperor Kaan’s voice was low, cold, and unyielding.

"No... no... no..." Emmanuelle muttered frantically, her voice barely coherent.

Sir Roderick watched in horror, fearing she was losing her mind, and perhaps she already had. Blood and tears streamed down her face, mingling together as they dripped from her chin and onto the floor.

She hissed like a cornered animal, a primal sound of fear and defiance. "The late Queen Is—"

Her voice cut off as she bit down hard on her tongue. The severed piece fell to the floor with a sickening thud, rolling several feet away, leaving a trail of blood behind.

She couldn’t speak anymore, but she didn’t need to—the name she had tried to utter was clear to everyone in the room. Emperor Kaan’s eyes narrowed; he already knew who she was about to implicate.

Emmanuelle’s body lurched forward, slamming her face into the cold stone floor with the force of a wild animal. She did it again, and again, like a bird pecking at the ground.

Sir Roderick, alarmed, reached out instinctively, placing his palm between her forehead and the ground, trying to stop the self-inflicted harm. But she continued, her eyes vacant, her movements frenzied, as if she were in a trance.

"Hold her back!" Sir Roderick shouted to the knights urgently.

They rushed to her, but by the time they reached her, her body was convulsing violently.

Her face was barely recognizable—her nose had been crushed, her eyes swollen and bloodied, her features distorted beyond recognition.

The floor beneath her was slick with blood, and her body twitched uncontrollably as if it had been consumed by some dark force.

"Y-Your Majesty..."

The woman lay still, her body motionless on the cold stone floor. Sir Roderick turned to the emperor, searching for confirmation or reassurance that what he witnessed was merely a nightmare—a cruel illusion wrought by dark magic.

"She killed herself," one of the knights announced, shattering any hope that had flickered within Sir Roderick.

Emperor Kaan exhaled slowly, clasping his hands together in his lap, an unsettling calm radiating from him. He behaved as though nothing was amiss—as if he had anticipated this tragic outcome all along.

"Why are you so surprised? Don’t you know what happens to those who break the rules of the spell?"