Nixon Blood. Thick, metallic, and warm, it dripped sluggishly from the deep gash on Mi'chi’s hand, pooling on the stone floor beneath him. The stale air in the dimly lit basement carried the coppery tang, mingling with the sharp stench of sweat and despair. Every breath Mi'chi took was a struggle, his chest rising and falling like a bellows as he wrestled against the pain. His wrist jerked involuntarily as Nixon's finger pressed mercilessly into the raw, ragged wound where Mi'chi’s pinky used to be. The Alpha’s movements were slow, deliberate, his face a mask of chilling detachment. Mi'chi’s scream split the silence, guttural and sharp, reverberating off the cold concrete walls. “You scream well,” Nixon said, his voice smooth but devoid of warmth. “The sooner you cooperate, the sooner your agony ends.” His golden eyes glimmered in the faint light, unblinking, predatory. Mi'chi spat, the glob landing near Nixon’s boots. “I’d rather die than betray my clan or the Luna,” he rasped, hi
Last Updated : 2024-11-26 Read more