Page 85 of Scarred Savages
The prisoner lets out a bitter laugh, spitting more blood onto the concrete floor. “She’s my property. Mine to do with as I please.”
Axel growls, sounding more like an animal than a human. “Let me carve his fucking face off.”
I hold up a hand, stopping him. “Not yet. We need information first.”
“I’ll ask again,” I say, turning back to the prisoner. “On whose orders?”
He spits blood on the floor but doesn’t answer.
“Listen,” I say, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at me. “You’re dead either way. That’s a given. But you can choose how you go. We can kill you quickly, or Axel here will make you wish for death, slowly, over days.”
The man’s eyes dart between us, calculating his odds. Finally, he licks his bloody lips and smiles, revealing red-stained teeth.
“Do you know how much that silver pussy is worth in the flesh market?” He laughs, a wet, gurgling sound. “You’re sitting on a fucking gold mine. Every alpha from here to the capital wants a piece of that.”
Axel roars, lunging forward with his hatchet raised. I barely catch his arm before the blade connects with the prisoner’s skull.
“I’m going to fucking rip you apart, you piece of shit,” Axel snarls, straining against my grip. His eyes are wild, pupils blown wide with rage.
“Axel, enough!” I bark, my alpha voice resonating through the basement walls. “We need information. He’s goading you.”
But Axel is beyond reason, his body trembling with violence barely contained. He’s like a bomb with the timer counting down.
“Get him out of here,” I order Ethan. “Now.”
Ethan grabs Axel’s shoulders, steering him toward the door. “Come on. Let’s go check on Luna.”
“I’ll kill him,” Axel growls, his eyes never leaving the prisoner. “I’ll fucking skin him alive.”
“You’ll get your chance,” Ethan promises, his voice low and soothing as he pushes Axel up the stairs. “But Luna needs us right now.”
The door closes behind them, leaving Damien and me with our prisoner. The man hangs limply from his chains, blood dripping steadily from his wounds.
“Talk,” I demand, turning back to him. “Who sent you?”
The prisoner coughs, blood spattering onto the concrete. “Wasn’t hard. Been tracking my bitch of a wife for months.” He pauses, drawing a ragged breath. “When I heard rumors that Conrad Clawford’s mate was in the same place…” He shrugs, wincing as the movement pulls at his wounds. “Two birds, one stone.”
A smile spreads across his battered face. “Word is, he’s desperate to get her back.”
“Besides,” he continues, licking blood from his split lip, “Conrad’s offering a fortune for the female. Said I could finish my wife off, and he would dispose of her body. No questions asked.” His eyes gleam with a sick light. “Said he was going to chain your silver-haired bitch—”
Damien moves too quickly for me to stop him. One moment, he’s beside me; the next, his hands wrap around the prisoner’s throat, twisting sharply. The crack echoes through the basement.
The prisoner’s eyes widen in shock, his mouth opening, but no sound comes out. His body goes limp, held up only by the chains.
“Damien—What the fuck?” I roar, grabbing his shoulder and spinning him around. “We needed more information!”
Damien’s face is eerily calm. “He gave us what we needed,” he says flatly, wiping his bloody hands on his jeans. “Conrad is coming. Our security is compromised. That’s all that matters.”
“We needed to know how many are coming, when they’re coming. What their plan is.”
“This piece of shit wouldn’t be privy to that info.” Damien shrugs. His eyes meet mine, cold. “You got what you wanted. Conrad took the bait.”
My stomach twists at his words. “Clean this up,” I order. “And next time, remember who’s in charge here.”
Damien’s eyes narrow, challenging. For a moment, I think he might defy me, but then he nods, a barely perceptible dip of his chin.
I turn to leave, needing to get out of this blood-soaked room, to clear my head and think.
