At the back door stood Herbert, leading a group of people.
But honestly, even without them, the sheer presence of Herbert alone was terrifying enough. The aura of a werewolf radiated from him, causing Fritz's bodyguards to tremble in fear.
At some point, Fritz appeared, suddenly pulling out a sharp knife and pressing it against my neck.
"You're asking for death!" he snarled.
Herbert moved so fast that I barely saw it.
With a sharp "clang," the knife fell to the ground.
Immediately after, I heard the sickening sound of bones snapping.
"Ah!" Fritz screamed in agony, but it was too late. His hand had been broken, and the bodyguard holding me let go in terror.
Herbert pulled me to his side, gently wiping the tears from my face.
"Clean this up," he ordered, his voice cold.
"Yes, sir!"
