Octavia

※ 08 ※

g o n e | chapter 08

It has been a very long night for Atticus Grady so far, for his past had decided to haunt his dreams. A past he would never get get tired of wishing he'd not ever remember. Every time he would try to close his eyes, vivid images of his terrors would appear, leaving him breathless and petrified.

Atticus would lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling while counting to a hundred before trying to get some sleep one last time, only to see the horrors of his past once more. Then he would repeat his earlier actions all over again.

He continued to do this until he knew he wouldn't be able to endure it anymore. Sighing heavily, he ran a hand down his face and turned over in his bed to lay on his side, noticing the radiance of the moon shining through his windows as he tried to get his jumbled thoughts in order.

When he had calmed his racing nerves, he gave a quick glance at his clock on top of his bedside table.

2:41 am. Friday. May 9, 121 A.T.

Atticus let out a small groan upon realizing that he still has a long way to go until sunrise. Throwing the covers off of him, he got out of his bed and stretched his limbs out, deciding to take a little walk around at the same time.

He put on some random sweatpants and a shirt, since he's only in his underwear, before leaving his bedroom. As he exited, a mahogany door on his left caught his attention and the image of Octavia's panic and dread filled gaze crossed his mind. He lightly shook his head and thought about apologizing and talking to her.

But he had a feeling that it wasn't right. That something's not right. So he decided to leave her alone for a while, to give her space before continuing his course toward the cellars.

"Alpha Atticus." A guard greeted him with a small bow when he reached the bottom of the stairs leading to the basement, where the underground prison is located, several minutes later.

Atticus didn't utter a word as he gestured the guard to open the door, too weary to speak. The stench of death greeted him as soon as he passed through the entrance of the cellars.

He started sauntering through the dim hallway, passing by several occupied cells. The prisoners of the pack that were held in the there noticed the Alpha's presence immediately.

Some cowered away, while some taunted him as he continued to walk further into the underground prison, only to stop in front of a cell that holds the rogue he had captured earlier.

The pale man with rugged looks directed his attention from the small rocks that he is somehow playing with, to Atticus. "Well, well. What do we have here?"

How and why is this asshole still awake? Atticus wondered as his passive expression morphed into that of exasperation. "What's your name, rogue?"

"That irrelevant piece of information won't matter since I'm as good as a dead man."

"It seems you're not stupid as I perceived you to be." The Alpha's eyes narrowed as he moved closer to the cell's door. "But I do need a name to put in for a report. If you cooperate, I might just consider sparing your sorry ass from torture."

He was talking bluff.

Atticus was more than thrilled at the thought of torturing the wretched rogue in front of him. With his dark subconscious attempting to resurface from the depths of his mind, a mental image of him beating the man to a pulp as he forces information out of him ran through his mind.