Page 79 of Never Submit

The elevator opens again, but this time we step into a dark open space, all concrete and void of any color or sophistication. The cement floor slopes toward a central drain that’s the color of rust from years of spilled blood.

“The king gave us his permission to use his dungeon?” I complain under my breath.

“Yes. He will be down shortly, but you brought him in, so this one’s ours to play with first,” Mathis replies. “Flora said there were two?”

“Second body is in the dumpster behind the bar,” I tell him. “It will need to be taken care of.”

Spaces like these are not used often, but have their purposes. There are always going to be enemies. Always going to be those who want to hurt and cause pain.

Andras is not the first of his kind.

He won’t be the last asshole who oversteps his bounds and has no respect for others. Who only wants to take and take and take.

He’s coming for us, and he’s coming for the other packs in the area, without fail.

Here’s hoping Mathis knows what he’s doing.

I secure our prisoner and step back, surveying the silver chains and manacles on the chair already bolted to the floor.

It’s better that Red’s not here to witness this. No matter how strong she tries to be, there is still a soft heart beating inside her ribcage. A lust for vengeance, perhaps, but a softness she can’t shake, and damn if I don’t want her to. The softness is part of the allure, the opposite side of her.

Pain rips through my head, and I struggle against the urge to grip my skull until it passes. It always passes. Anytime I try to think about the past, the pain erupts again, and again, and again. Always until I give in to the numbness and then the pain subsides.

My past is a blur, nothing but darkness and agony whenever I try to probe too deeply. It doesn’t matter, anyway. Nothing matters before Mathis found me in the woods, scared and trapped in my wolf shape, withwounds that refused to heal until his father brought in the greatest healers the pack had to offer. They accepted me, and Mathis has been a brother to me ever since.

“You’re not going to get anything out of me,” Andras’s delta says with a sneer.

It’s his voice that brings me back to myself, to the moment, and I glare at him. “Trust me. You’ll talk.”

We have ways of making you talk.

And right now it’s not looking good for Blondie.

“We know you’re intimate with Andras.” Mathis grabs hold of the arms of the chair and gets in the other man’s face.

“Go fuck yourself,” the man replies.

My lips peel back from my fangs, a familiar heat surging through me. “Let me break his nose,” I tell Mathis. “Let me send bone shards into his brain.”

He holds out a hand to stop me. “Not yet.” The full force of his attention is on this guy, on getting him to spill. Before revenge.

But fuck, it’s hard to hold myself back. It always is. That much hasn’t changed, and I wonder if I’ve always been this way.

Pain rips through my head again, a bright second of agony, and in the silence in my head I hear a baby crying. A flashing image of blood, everywhere. Screaming and wailing.

Then it's all gone, and I shake it off, the last hints of pain disappearing.

Mathis doesn’t even notice the lapse.

“Honestly, it’s a wonder you still have all your teeth. Dax is fond of knocking them out and shoving them in places they don’t belong,” he tells the blonde in a jovialtone. He straightens, and his hands fall to his sides, his gaze clinical and detached. “Eyes, ears–”

“Asshole,” I add with mock modesty.

“I’m sure you’d like to leave here intact, without a canine in your asshole,” Mathis continues. “Tell us what we want to know and we can make that happen.”

The blond lets out a laugh. “You must think I’m a fucking idiot. I’m not getting out of here alive. Which means I don’t have to tell you shit.” He spits out a wad of blood and leans back in the chair, trying to look comfortable but failing. “Just do it already.”

“Ah, he’s chosen the hard way.” Finally, Mathis smiles. “Dax? You’re up.”

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