Donas was sitting in the plain dark room, in the only chair it had that sat in the dark corner, the smell of stale blood clung to the old shag carpet like a rotted body. He scrapped his nails impatient against the wooden chair leaving deep gashes int he wood. This was his 'Office' or so they called it. No matter how many times the help came and cleaned the room, the smell of blood filled the space. Memories flittered across his mind while he sat in the car wooden chair, memories of when Diego was a child and teaching him to kill, to drain the life out of those he wanted. He relished the satisfaction it brought to him remember how Diego would rip people's throats out without hesitation. His own personal killing machine or so he thought.
There was a knock on the door, which made Donas groan in frustration, everyone knew when he was in this room he was not to be disturbed.
