~ ROWAN
I never truly understood why my father made an entire building just for the dungeons.
Crime was low and almost entirely nonexistent, but he had assured me that I would understand why. Now I did.
A scream of terror echoed through the stone walls. It sounded louder than it was and lingered long after the wolf had closed his mouth.
His body shook with tremors, snot dripping down his nose as blood trailed down his torso but the rage inside of me did not ebb, it did not ease, if anything, it only grew worse.
He was on his knees, hands held up by chains that burned each time he struggled against them. His shirt was gone but his pants remained. Tiny carvings lay etched into his chest. The longest was the length of my forearm. That was what made him scream like an infant.
"Are you ready to tell me what I need to know?" I asked, twirling the bloodstained knife in my hands.
He swallowed thickly, words garbled by his tears. "I have nothing to say to you."
