Lone Wolf ☆a Wulf Pack Novel Book 1☆✔

Chapter Forty-four

!!!WARNING!!! This chapter contains blood, gore and torture!!! Read with CAUTION. (If you do not wish to read, this part, feel free to skip. Important info will be at the end of the next chapter)

Rage circled the chair, assessing the male strapped to it. 

Once. Twice. He stopped behind the chair, looked over the males head to  Wrath and Ethan.

"What tools are in here?" the other males glanced around them, there wasn't much in the small space beneath the shed. Three cells lined up with a small hall running parallel.

He waited as they moved about the space, searching for any tools, only to return with silent head shaking. He sighed, unsheathing the serrated knife in his boot. It was not ideal for the task, he much preferred to use it for  killing, the grooves near the hilt perfect for the secondary slicing when removed. But it would have to do, his kit was in his tent and he didn't feel like wasting time retrieving it.

"Here is what's going to happen," Rage rounded the chair, staring down at the male, his gray eyes holding nothing but hate, "I will ask you a question and you will answer. If you don't, if you lie or I don't like the answer, you will feel pain like you have never felt before..."

"I'm not telling you anything, you're going to kill me anyways," the male snarled, Rage growled deep, annoyed already with this pup.

"The matter isn't IF or WHEN, pup, it is a matter of HOW, as in HOW much it will hurt," that's when the shaking started, the fear once more filling the male and leaking into the air. Rage's wicked smile grew.

"So tell me," he passed around the chair, tapping the blade rhythmically on his thigh, "Who leads this rag-tag gang of mutts?" he stopped before the chair, the blade still tapping against his jeans.

"I don't know," Wrong answer... the knife was buried in the other males thigh before he could take a breath. The scream shook through the room, bouncing off the stone walls. Leaving the blade, Rage stood, glaring downward, face twisted.

"It is hard to believe you joined the so- called "pack" without knowing the leader, the "Alpha" per say,"

"I don't know..." the blade snagged on the puckered skin, ripping the smooth slice made on entry. The scream was deeper but just as loud as the first. The males mouth gaped like a fish as he tried to speak though the pain. Rage waited, "I-I s-swear only...k-know who leads... the camp, Jackson"

Rage nodded, letting him catch his breath, he was taking in long gulps past the pain. He believed him, it was very likely that this pup was only told so much, only knew so much.

"How many camps are there?" he asked as he moved to stand behind the chair again.

"I don't know..." he screamed as the knife pieced the tender skin between his neck and shoulder, slowly slicing downward, cutting both skin and cloth until it reached the shoulder blade. Blood gushed down his back, absorbed by the dark cotton shirt.