Confusing Misconception.

Logan's P.O.V

My knuckles were raw and slightly torn, blood seeping from the cuts on it. The air in the room was musty and filled with a metallic scent so strong I could almost taste it.

In front of me sat two bastards tied to chairs, one of which was dead. Usually, I didn't meddle in the torturing of wrongdoers but they were the bastards who had tried to kidnap Aimee and I needed to know who sent them.

And they were proving stubborn and tight-lipped.

So snagging a blade laced with wolfsbane, I slowly moved towards the bloodied bastard.

"Please," he begged through lips that were smashed and swollen. "He'll kill me if I tell you. Please."

That's exactly why I was pissed. It was a He who sent them. Not a She. All fingers pointed at Nancy at first but when these fools were brought to me, a trickle of surprise shot through me when they kept saying "He."

Gritting my teeth, I leaned in and dug the blade into his skin, unfeeling as a guttual and almostical animalistic scream tore through him