Royal Blood

Chapter 20

Ok chapter 20 is finally upp! Yay! I know, I know, it's been a while and i'm sorry.  School like just got out so everything has been a little hetic. I finally wrote this and i plan on posting the next chapter soon. Well vote, comment, fan, and most of all enjoy!!! =D

Chapter 20

Chase’s POV

I walked back out and into the kitchen where the cook was having her own little meal, before she had to serve dessert. I grabbed her by the arm and yanked her out of the seat. I pushed her up against the wall and had my arm against her throat before she had time to react. Her eyes widened in surprise and fear, but she didn’t dare scream. Slave owners aren’t scared of us, but most of the help sure are.

            “Now, I have some questions, and you’re going to answer them unless you feel like dying today, got it?” I threatened and she nodded her head, her eyes wide and glinting with fear. I wouldn’t actually kill her, but she didn’t know that, nor did I plan on letting her know.

            “Now we can do this the easy way or the hard way. I don’t want to hurt you, but if I have to I will.” Okay I’ll admit it, that was I lie. I wanted to hurt her for putting Alyssa in danger, but I held myself back. If Alyssa had died, it would have been all her fault. I reminded myself that Alyssa hadn’t died, so I shouldn’t be too hard on the cook, as long as she answered my questions.

“Okay, first question, there was poison in Alyssa’s food wasn’t there?!?” I demanded and she remained silent. “Wasn’t there?!?” I asked and shook her roughly.

            Once more she nodded. “Next question, how did it get there?” I asked and narrowed my eyes at her.

            She gulped and whispered, “I can’t tell you.” I growled slightly at her as a warning and yet again she remained silent.

            “Hard way it is then,” I grabbed her arm and dragged her back over to the table. Then I picked up a large btcher knife off of the nearby counter. She shouldn’t leave things like that just sitting there, someone could get hurt. I put her hand on the table and forcibly splayed her fingers apart then raised the knife up. She tried to pull away, but to no avail. Her pull was just a feeble annoying tug.

            “On the count of three I’m going to chop off one of your fingers,” I said and smiled eerily at her, “Which one first? Pinkie, middle? Oh, I know, how about the pointer finger. That’ll be a good start.”

            “No, please,” she whimpered pitifully and once again tried to pull away. She took her other hand and hopelessly tried to pull my hand away. She was crying now and tears where rolling freely down her face. She finally figured out that trying to pull out of my grasp was useless and started clawing my arm. I can tell you one thing, she sure had fingernails. The scratches healed about as quick as they appeared.

            “One…..two…..” I said, and right before I could say three she screamed, “I’ll tell you, I tell you, just please don’t hurt me!”