Argyl

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DAMION'S POV.

My blood was boiling from her words. The Demon was already unleashed. And I made absolutely no efforts to keep him caged.

She slept peacefully in my embrace.

I put her down on the bed and kissed her forehead.

I got off the bed walking out of the room.

I had no control on my nerves that moment.

I walked to the office, anger taking me over.

Her blood mum who sold her for drugs. The two men out of which one ran away.

I was going to find him. The bastard was gonna pay. I will not let him get away with this.

I called Will and Roger and paced through my cabin like a caged animal. Ready to pounce.

Taking deep breaths I tried to keep myself from pulling out the gun and shooting any damn one who came into my sight.

I needed to be calm and composed.

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in." I said and Roger and Will walked in.

"Rey." They both said in a small voice bowing down their heads.

I nodded at them.

"I want you two to find out every fucking thing you can get about Argyl's mum." I said looking at them.

They both nodded but didn't question me.

They knew better than questioning me.

"As soon as possible." I said.

They both nodded again.

"Good. We are done here." I said and they mumbled a quick 'Rey' walking out of the room.

I went to the window resting my hand on it feeling the cold surface against my skin.

The anger inside me seeking it's way out. How could her own mother sell her. What would have happened if she wasn't brave enough to kill them?

She was just thirteen for hell's sake. No wonder she is so aggressive and impulsive.

Her nerves have saved her from the biggest disaster in her life. Of course she trusts them.

I balled my fists landing a punch on the window, the glass cracking.

The guards outside barged in to see everything was alright.

They saw it was just me and again went out saying a 'Rey.'

I looked at my knuckles. Blood gracing them. I haven't in a long time had fought with anyone. I hadn't killed anyone with my bare hands. But I wanted to now.

I wanted to spill blood. To kill someone with my own hands without using any weapons.

Blood dripped down my closed fists as my nails were pushed into my skin.

I stood there near the window without moving for hours. Thinking about who that person could be.

Thinking how I could kill him in the worst way possible.

I felt a soft touch on my shoulder, my hand going to my gun, my senses going alarmed.

I heard her voice and my tensed muscles relaxed.

"It's me."

I turned around to face her. Her eyes were tired, her face filled with the bruises and cuts.