The Vampire Prince's Blindfolded Bride
Chapter 392: Griffin’s Past 3

Chapter 392: Griffin’s Past 3

Griffin buried his mother and both the siblings in the ground. He was unable to shed the tears. Was it because of his vampire’s nature now? He had heard that the vampires were not prone to emotions like humans were.

Fury simmered beneath his calm exterior as he made his way to the debt collectors’ hideout. The wooden door splintered with a single kick, his powerful strength effortlessly reducing it to shards.

The men inside scrambled to their feet, fear evident in their eyes as they took in the sight of the intruder.

Griffin’s gaze swept over the room, taking in the scene of debauchery—half-eaten plates of meat, bottles of alcohol, and a heap of money in the middle of the table.

The leader of the group, trying to mask his fear with bravado, stepped forward with a frown. "You!" he spat out.

The leader’s growl of disbelief echoed in the room. "How the fuck is this bastard alive?" he spat, his anger masking the fear creeping into his heart. "Be ready to pay for the broken door," he added.

One of the men, driven by blind loyalty or perhaps sheer stupidity, lunged at Griffin with a knife. But Griffin was faster, his reflexes honed to perfection by his vampiric nature.

He caught the man’s wrist with a tight grip, the bones cracking under the pressure before he slammed the man into the wall with inhuman force. Without a moment’s hesitation, Griffin sank his fangs into the man’s neck, the rush of blood quenching the primal thirst that now defined him.

The other men froze, their eyes widening in horror as they watched their comrade fall lifeless to the floor. The leader took a step back, finally realizing Griffin had turned into something horrific.

"Kill him!" he barked, trying to cling to his authority.

Griffin moved with deadly efficiency, the rage over his family’s loss fueling every brutal strike. One by one, the men fell, their lives extinguished with little effort. Each death seemed to fan the flames of his anger, the memories of his mother and siblings lifeless bodies tormenting him, pushing him further into the abyss of bloodlust.

The leader, realizing his fate, made a desperate dash for the second door. Griffin let him run, a twisted satisfaction brewing in him as he imagined the fear gripping the man’s heart.

The leader barely made it outside, his cries for help echoing through the night. But as he looked back, relief briefly washing over him, he found himself staring into the cold, unforgiving eyes of Griffin.

Griffin’s hand shot out, gripping the leader’s neck with terrifying strength. He yanked him close, his fangs extending, glistening with the promise of death. "You shouldn’t have touched them," Griffin hissed, his voice low and menacing. "I told you I would haunt you until your death."

The leader’s bravado crumbled, his hands coming together in a pleading gesture. "Ta-take all the money. But pl-please leave me," he begged, his voice breaking as tears streamed down his face. But Griffin was beyond mercy. The thirst for blood and the pain of his loss overpowered any remnants of humanity he might have clung to.

With a vicious snarl, Griffin sank his fangs deep into the leader’s neck, draining him of life in a matter of moments. The leader’s pleas turned to gurgles as his blood fueled Griffin’s rage. When he had taken his fill, Griffin snapped the man’s neck with a sickening crack, his anger momentarily sated.

But the pain remained, a searing agony that tore through him. Griffin let out a scream, "Ahhhhhh!" the sound filled with the torment of a person that had lost everything. He wiped the blood from his lips with the back of his hand.

Griffin stumbled out of the house, his body still humming with the power of the fresh blood coursing through his veins. The evening air did nothing to cool the fire raging within him—the insatiable thirst for more.

But alongside, he didn’t want to harm the innocent. At the same time, the line between right and wrong blurred as the beast within took control.

His nostrils flared as the scent of another human’s blood hit him which was sharp and intoxicating. Without a second thought, he raced in the direction of the scent, his speed a blur in the darkness.

The man didn’t even have time to react before Griffin was upon him, sinking his fangs into flesh once more. The blood flowed freely, quenching his immediate thirst, but it also fueled a deeper, more dangerous hunger—a hunger that grew with every drop.

Griffin’s vision darkened, his humanity slipping further away with each passing second. The satisfaction of the kill, the thrill of the hunt, it was all-consuming.

A sinister smirk tugged at his lips as the last vestiges of restraint crumbled away. The thought of a village full of humans—an entire feast just waiting for him—was irresistible.

He headed in that direction, his mind now a single track, focused solely on the need for blood. Perhaps it was the only way to forget the faces of his mother and siblings.

When he spotted playing kids in the village, he saw his siblings in them. He held his head, feeling the intense pain. But the scent of the blood was turning him mad. He clenched his fists hard, not wanting to harm those children.

But his vampire form didn’t allow him for doing so. With deliberately slow steps, Griffin walked closer to the kids, their fresh blood was making him hungrier with each passing moment.

Griffin stopped in front of those happy kids. His insides asking him to start drinking from them. As he reached out his hand to grab one of them, a hand stopped him.

"Enough, newbie!" A masculine voice reached his ears and the next second he inhaled something which made him faint.

The kids stopped playing as they looked at those tall men in fear.

Griffin was dragged away to a place, where he would learn to control his blood thirst.

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