Thousands of people were crammed in front of their pack house for the whole night were their horrified looks never for a second left their expressions. The king’s summons called for his royal army as his fleet flooded the land form all its directions covering every possible area. His call turned the royal castle upside down when the orders arrived sending his beta into mental break episode. News, spread fast during that night, news that kept every head and alpha throughout the kingdom in edge fearing the wrath of an unstoppable man. Just in a matter of hours a peaceful territory turned into a hellish battlefield. No reasons provided no logic behind such tragedy, an act and death of many based on a single words from a single man; their king.
However the one who took the most blow was the poor doctor who suffered the most excruciating torture. All of Xavier’s frustrations were released on him, as he enjoyed reaping him apart on every bit possible. The man was barely recognizable just after thirty minuet inside that dark room. He was dragged inside as soon as he was caught by Xavier. Not even realizing what was happening, or grasp half the truth he was facing.
An earth shattering headache hit him as soon as he came to. Bowing his body downside eyes closed throbbing due to the dull pain. The back of his skull throbbed like a Sunday church’s bell; letting out a curse he tried to move his hand to inspect the damage, except that it didn’t move at all. His arms were restrained by something sharp, his legs too were immobilized as he noticed when he tried to lift his aching body up. Pushing his figure forward only to be pulled back by the same force into that hellish chair. He looked around him searching for anyone or anything that can help him but he only were met with darkness. He couldn’t see a thing barely a faint shapes of what can probably be the kitchen.
“Was this the pack’s kitchen?” he wondered, “what happened to me?” he asked himself trying to find his answers. But by scanning his surroundings he knew that things went south by the time he passed out.
His head run miles, as his eyes jumped around looking for signs. He was aching, suffering from pain and thoughts distracted by the steady dripping that echoed all around him, yet it seemed to come from a single source.
How long had he been blacked out? He further cracked his eyes to better analyze his situation, while he fought the blackness that continued to engulf him. Nonetheless, he could feel the evilness that caged him in, he can sense the danger that followed his tail like hunted soul waiting for revenge. A tremor of horror swallowed his core, shaking the little reassurance he had. Like a lamb he laid there waiting to be slaughtered. A deer breathing its last lungful before the bloodied claws would steal its happy existence. That slight tremor increased in intensity until he physically shook in sync with it.
“It must be a dream, it is all a dream. I’m hallucinating, a nightmare; yes that explain it. In a few minutes I will be waking up to my sweet mate’s voice. It can’t be real!” He chanted in his head like a lullaby. Trying desperately to chaise his worries away. “Not real, none of this are real”
Narrow straps dug into his flesh when he moved his arms in a desperate attempt to free himself. His cries echoed spreading his painful and excruciating calls. He kept pounding his straps as they sawed in deeper and drew blood, focusing only on wrenching himself free to notice anything else. All his urges and instincts pushed him to fight this unseen enemy, to break those chains that bonded him and cut his air.
Yet nothing worked. No matter what he did nothing worked. He snapped his head back and forth again and again in panic letting all his frustration through his cries and shouts that mingled with his exasperated emotions; feelings of pain, anger, terror and alarm. The stuffed place and his dragged thoughts caused him to gag. His eyes flooded by tears that hammered uncontrollably through his face, dropping silently wetting his dirty pants.
His state was a total mess that he couldn’t be aware of the metallic scent of blood that got mixed with the little droplet of urine that escaped his control. Like the smell of decayed corps forcing its way down his throat and lodging his heart.
His movement slowed considerably, due to his ebbed strength. Like run out battery; his poundings came at longer intervals. Dragging his ragged breath one after another, his anxious body beat the painstakingly slow rhythm of burial march. Thinking that soon it may be his march!!
He had requests, he begged. He pulled his gaze to the roof talking to his God “please answer my requests” perhaps his act wasn’t manly, or courageous enough a kind that doesn’t reflect a representable pack doctor. But seeing his agony and black to blue body he believed everything was possible. He just needed to survive.
The implications of his requests were yet to be registered when two red eyes that were not too long ago closed opened to shine brightly within that dark like night. The eyes were red like two magnificent rubies full of worth and scale. Two eyes that looked at his figure judgmentally criticizing each inch of him. “He was the same man from before. He was the same monster that made him to be like this”
He realized at first glance that he was at the mercy of a monster, a maniac that enjoyed blood.
It seems that his requests and prays went into the wrong way. He was definitely answered by the devil instead of God.
He cursed his luck, his life, and the fate that lead him here.