Mad | ✔ | GB+SB

Chapter Three

I stand up and thank Trey for today's tutoring session before striding out of the library.

I decide that I can get my training done later, after I have some food in me, and head to where my new pets are.

I open the dungeon as a maid walks out.

"Careful," Karen warns me unnecessarily. "A few of them are volatile."

I give her a shark's grin and say, "Darling, I have never met someone more violent then me. I can handle a few of homesick little boys."

Karen looks a little pale, but still has a skeptical look on her face.

I straighten my dress and smile.

This is the first time in a very long time that I have been able to spend time with someone who isn't part of the mafia. It is exciting to think that I can actually make a friend. Also, the sick and twisted side of me wants a couple for torture.

There really is nothing wrong with torture.

A lot of our daily activities are torture, we just don't call it that.

You know, the normal activities like cleaning for hours, being locked in a white room for weeks, being told not to move for long periods of time, being chained up in front of the air conditioner for days on end, and other things that people go through every day. It could be considered torture, but we don't call it that, do we? People are just used to it.

My grin turns sick and violent and I know the crazed look in my eyes has returned.

I stroll into the dungeon where they are shouting and banging.

I sit down properly at the table in the middle of the room surrounded by the cells. I wait patiently, not sure how long it will take for them to stop freaking out.

I don't have to wait long, though. The noise cuts out almost immediately as they take at me.

Finally, Gabriel blurts out, "What the fuck are you doing in here? Are you okay? Who are you?"

The others look like they have stuff to say, but I ignore them and answer Gabriel's questions.

"I am okay, thank you. You can call me Sang," I say sweetly, knowing that my voice can be incredibly innocent and calming.

They all seem a little stunned as my voice washes over them.

I laugh at their dazed expressions.

The tranquilizers must have seriously messed with them.

I drop the innocent act and add with a smirk, "And I am fucking in this room because I can be, asshole."

They all look at me shocked.

What?

Just because Mother dressed me innocent doesn't mean I have to be innocent.

"Now, I hear you were yelling. Explain," I order quietly. I don't need to yell. The look in my eyes makes people want to listen.