Lone Wolf ☆a Wulf Pack Novel Book 1☆✔

Chapter Nineteen

WARNING!!! THIS CHAPTER CONTAINS VIOLENCE, GORE AND DEATH/KILLING! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!

This chapter is not necessary to read! If you don't like stuff like this please feel free to skip it. You won't miss much by doing so.

Rage had strapped the alpha to a metal chair in the center of the concrete room. The man did not protest as he buckled each leather strap, securing his arms and legs into place.

The room was made for torture, the dirt floor black with the layers of blood that had soaked into it. The earthy smell was long gone, now replaced by the smell of death and the little she-wolf. Though Rage doubted it was only her blood that painted the ground.

It did make him wonder how deep the blood had soaked into the soil, how many years, how many wolves, how many deaths had occurred in this dirt basement.

One wall was lined with cages, all of which were empty, dried blood and other bodily fluids coated each of them, only adding to the rotting smell of death that hung heavy in the air. While the opposite side of the room held many tools, most of which were often used in horror movies. They were surprisingly clean, considering the condition of their home. The far wall, opposite the stairwell, held a trough like sink that was brown and rusted, barely holding onto the wall it was once secured to.

The center of the room was where the action happened, the blood stains spiderweb from the metal chair and a metal table like they used in morgues.

The dim light illuminated the space around them from a single light bulb. The light shinning off of the tools as if they were new.

Rage examined the wall decorated in weapons, letting his mind wonder over the many things he could use to torture and kill this male.

With a wicked grin and a glint in his eye, he grabbed some of his favorites, ones he knew would be painful but not do too much damage.

Setting each tool onto the table, each causing a clink to echo along the walls. The Alpha was shaking, his bitter smell of his fear reminded Rage of lemonade.

When he turned, he found the male, with his face as white as his knuckles, all the blood leaving in fear as he gripped the arms of the chair.

"First things first," Rage stepped up to the shaking male, he reached out and gripped his jaw, using his fingers to force his mouth open.

The Alpha tried to pull away, he tried to shake his head loose from the vice like grip that held him in place.

Rage only watched, waiting for his moment. He smiled when it came, the male tried to scream.

As soon as his tongue moved, Rage sliced, blood gushing from the wound.

The smell of urine filled the air as the man, tried to scream, only to choke on his own blood. Rage release him, having done what he intended, he moved back to the table, to set the scalpel onto the shinny surface, a small drop of blood dripping from the blade.