Beneath the Surface // Moonsun

Chapter 8

Byulyi's POV

Michael King has spent the last twenty-four hours naked, isolated and blindfolded, tied to a stiff-backed chair in the warehouse's basement broom closet. We call it the Krystal Jung special. She allows them to 'marinate' in their fear and the smell of their own excrement, sometimes vomit even, before 'tenderizing the meat'. As long as I don't have to clean up afterwards and we get the information we need, I don't care what she does to them.

Yongsun walks down into the basement with me, her usually unreadable face blemished with what looks like dread and her arms are crossed, hands clenched into her skin. To one less emotionally astute than myself, they might think the woman looks angry. Lips stretched tight in an almost grimace, eyes squinted in the dim light.

She glares at me with unguarded annoyance. "Stop staring at me."

"No." I snap, trying to ignore the fact that she just demanded me to do something.

The balls on this woman is something I rarely see and usually comes from some arrogant man that really knows how to piss me the fuck off. Though infuriating, that same sort of talk coming from a woman is somewhat shockingly turning me on. And I can't tell if it's just coincidence because I happen to be painfully attracted to the women on my right.

Sex with Krystal is now dull. The games with the bartender at the nightclub last night was so boring I wasn't even turned on enough to go back to her house. They're like heroin, but I'm craving her - oxycodone or some shit. Harder to get, but if it's what I want then I obtain it. It's pretty simple.

We approach a heavy, metal door at the end of a hall on the basement level and Yongsun noticeably begins to slow down, shuffling forward. I remember witnessing my first torture, gave me nightmares for weeks. But I was sixteen not twenty-seven and I did it without complaint.

"Now don't bitch out on me." I place a hand on the small of her back and feel her spine lock at the touch.

Her face scrunches as she slips out of my reach. "You're a sick fuck for making me watch a torture. Do you enjoy this?"

I blink slowly, stopping in my tracks. "You have some fucking nerve to question me like that."

Yongsun pauses too and gives me a mocking smile. "What happened to 'we can have disagreements'?"

I scratch my jaw, nearly at a loss for words. "You need to chill down this alpha attitude to a solid beta."

"Or you'll send a hitman to kill me in my sleep?"

"Or you'll really get me turned on." I mutter, only half-joking.

It works though. Her nose crinkles in disgust and she looks away from me. Good. I might actually have to kill her if she keeps up the attitude. That would be a waste.

"Behind this door you'll find a naked man that has been prepared for the slaughter." I say gesturing towards the door like a tour guide. "Our main interrogator Krystal Jung will be leading our demonstration today. And once you finish, you'll receive a surprise prize!"

Yongsun's harsh gaze is unrelenting. "Oh boy. Is it a big 'fuck you and your future mental trauma'?"

I snort. "Cute, but that's a given."

Leaving her on that note, I open the door into our designated torture room, a moderately-sized room with an unusual tile floor that makes it hella easy to clean up blood. There's a rack of "tools" against the back wall where I see Krystal inspecting a pair of pliers, probably more for show than much else. Michael King lies naked and gagged on an adjustable table in the center of the room and Wheein sits in a corner with her tablet propped against a knee. She looks up as we enter, face tightening as she sees Yongsun behind me.