House of Wolves

A chuckle left the man. He leaned forward and picked a sharp knife up off the desk. He twirled it in his fingers for a moment before rolling up his sleeve and slicing the knife across the skin, drawing blood from his arm. He barely even winced at the pain, nor did he really care. He had such a bloodlust and it was killing him not to see someone get hurt. But he couldn’t leave where he was.