Night Delinquent

Chapter 11: Blood Price

Night
Delinquent

Third person's POV

Songbirds were chirping dawn's lullabies from the heights of pine branches. Beads of morning dew resides on the greenest of leaves, gradually sliding down to kiss freshly mowed grass. The spooky fog that veiled several of the mansion's floral gardens seemed to notice the giant fireball's peek, elegantly retreating its whispy mists back into the surrounding woodlands of Bloodwood Creek.

One by one, residents of Lascelles were preparing to start their morning chores. Either unaware or deliberately ignoring the commotion coming from the lowest and most secluded part of the ancient building.

The dungeons.

Last night, during their late-night patrols, Carson and his team of Gammas had found an uninvited stranger wandering around the pack's territory. Resulting in a quick man-hunt to capture the intruder, thus explaining their absence from the feast, much to Alex's dismay for not being able to stuff his face with greasy goods.

Several hours went by and these five men kept their attention fixated at the red-head who was bounded onto a wooden chair. His wrists and ankles were forcefully chained with jagged rusty metals, piercing his flesh, soaking its orange-brown rusts red.

It was only an hour ago when their Alpha decided to show up. Cal was beyond furious to be interrupted before the crack of dawn, but once he saw their newest catch, his eyes lit up.

"I SWEAR IF YOU-"

"Shut up, Matty boy," the tall grey-eyed Alpha threw his head back and laughed hysterically. Finding the bloodied man's words amusing. "Your delusions are killing me."

Blinking off sarcastic invincible tears, Cal motioned towards his blonde Beta, who looked more than happy to refill the empty mug with wolfsbane-infused water.

"Hold him up, boys," a sinister grin was plastered on his angelic face. Under their Alpha's orders, both Carson and Theo grabbed the chained man's jaws and forced it open with their inhuman strength. "Enjoy your breakfast."

"YOU DARE-"

Before he got to finish his sentences, Cal forced the purple liquid down the man's throat. It was a messy sight. The liquid splattered everywhere, staining his captors' shirts. Utterly disgusted by this, Carson connected his knuckles right on to the man's jaw, creating an unmistakable cracking sound of bones colliding with one another.

"Savor this complimentary drink, will you? Think of it as some kind of grape juice," he spat, eyes consumed by hatred.

"Now, now, Carson," Cal chuckled. The sight of blood coming from this particular individual satisfied his thirst for vengeance. "Where's the fun in doing it just once? Have another go."

Following his Alpha's instructions, the Beta kept on punching the captive repeatedly until his own knuckles turned red. But still, the man refused to crack.

His once bright mint eyes were now barely noticeable due to the swollen bruises that impaired his visions. Fresh blood gushed heavily from his broken nose, staining his cut-covered bare upper body red. Trickles of the warm liquid made its way past his busted lips, overwhelming his mouth with saltiness.

Matthew Sawyers' current state resembled a creature created by Victor Frankenstein. More than a decade ago, the Sawyers was one of the three families who refused to lend a hand when the Rosiers got attacked by a legion of lycans for five nights straight. Their actions resulted in a brutal bloodbath and within a span of days, many lives were lost. Including the great Alpha, Calix Rosier and his gentle wife, Giselle.