The Dark Side of the Moon

Chapter 37: Benjamin

-Benjamin’s P.O.V-

Worn Italian leather shoes created barely any sound on wooden flooring or carpet, and I found this out as I strode down the luxurious hallway with a single door beckoning at the end. The carpet underfoot was of Persian style, thick, coloured patterns weaving in and out beneath my shoes. Paintings littered the walls - most of them originals even - and it was clear that my family was quite well off, so to speak. But I wasn’t focusing on that at the moment; I had other, more pressing issues to consider.

The dark oak door loomed before me and I cast an eye to my left, inspecting the men who had taken a seat on the velvet ottoman as they waited. All of their faces looked rather miserable, dreading an encounter with the notorious Alpha of the Sergio Pack. I recognized each of them as members of the pack, high up officials in the social ladder. One of the most feared officials had his head bent toward the floor, his hands clasped loosely in between his knees. It was the image of hopelessness, as if he had nothing more that he could do.

I shrugged off the foreign feeling of sympathy that welled up inside of me and didn’t bother to knock as I strode through the door. I shut it quietly behind me, and the room’s two occupants were still arguing despite my loud entrance. My father was of course sitting behind his desk, but his expression was one of pure rage. Only a person such as myself who had known him closely for several years could detect the defeated look cowering behind his facade.

The other person participating in the heated discussion was a thin, scrawny looking man who was nearly tripping over himself as he stood as far away from my father as he could possibly manage. He adjusted his glasses and looked at the floor as he talked, his fingers twiddling together in a nervous habit.

“He hasn’t said a word yet Alpha, he refuses to talk or even eat. It’s impossible to glean the information from him that you require, I’m deeply sorry-” the man stuttered, but he was cut off by an angry, testosterone filled man on the verge of shifting into the supernatural.

“THEN GET HIM TO BLOODY TALK!” he roared over the top of the scrawny man’s mumbling. The poor fellow nearly had a heart attack when my father used such volume, and his glasses fell off as he was startled. My father’s voice lowered as he realized the effect he was having on the innocent man. “I’ve had him locked up for three days in that cellar, three days and he still refuses to bargain! What more can I do?”

“You can introduce me to him, and we can have a little chat.” I cut in, intrigued in this mysterious person who was locked in one of our many cellars.

“What do you want son?” David asked without looking up. His head was in his hands in a short moment of weakness and the man in the corner stayed stock still, probably worrying that he was intervening in on a ‘family moment’.

“What I came here for doesn’t matter anymore; I want to see this prisoner we have. Why wasn’t I informed of this before?” I demanded.

“You were busy,” David waved his hand in dismissal; he didn’t want to talk about it. “He’s in the cellar in the South Wing, if you’re that curious,” he sighed. I was out the door in a flash, nearly sprinting down the hallway back the way I’d come.

The South Wing was closer than I had expected, and I approached a guarded door with caution. It led down to the cellar, that was for sure, and if the heavily padlocked metal was anything to go by, I’d say that this prisoner was not just any human. The guard in front of me stood resolutely, not batting an eyelid as I walked closer.

“I need to see the prisoner,” I told him.

“With all due respect sir, I would need the Alpha’s permission to let anybody down there, I’m afraid that I can’t help.” He replied, looking seriously scared as he awaited my reaction.