Lycan's Prey by Jessica Hall

Chapter 236

-Soren-

Rhett is looking on the brink of death as I enter the dungeons where he is kept. His entire body bloody from the relentless torture he has endured, but I need answers, and today I would get them. Alaric had compelled him good because he hasn’t uttered a word about who is the person working with them from my guard.

However, Damian believes we have broken the compulsion Alaric has over him because he tried to tell Damian who the traitor in my castle was, so he came to get me. It seems compulsion can be broken after all, or we are hoping my added command behind the torture will finally break him. Blood dribbles from his mouth, his head hangs forward, his chin resting on his chest. Opening the door to his cell, his head rolls on his shoulders to look at me. He whimpers and starts sobbing.

“Please, no more,” he begs.

I do not feel pity for the man, not after what he has done. I move into the cell briskly, leaving the door ajar behind me. The room reeks of sweat and blood, thick in the air like a fog. It sticks to my throat with every breath. I keep my expression neutral.

“I don’t care for your tears, Rhett,” I say, my teeth clenched in restrained rage. “I want names.”

A pathetic whimper is his only response, the connection of his

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barely holding on. But I have no time for sympathy –

“Give me what I want. Who is the traitor?” I ask him, my fingers moving over the knives

my movements with a sense of dread. His breaths come out in short, ragged gasps as he winces at the mere

out once more, before spluttering into violent coughs that have

the blade I pick up. The dull light of the dungeon flickers on its polished surface, and Rhett’s body

blue eyes widening with terror as they dart to the gleam of cold, sharp steel. “I

pull his head up by his hair and force him to look me in the eye. “Rhett,” I say his name with deliberate clarity, “You die today regardless. But how you die – whether it’s

bare chest. Howling in pain and fear Rhett clenches his eyes shut momentarily before he pries them open enough to meet my steely gaze. His breaths are ragged, tearing out from his

of patience as

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on him, the fact he is trying to tell us means it’s nearly broken. Making me wonder if it is

has left, the other we removed with a serrated bread knife, trying to get answers out of him. Ripping the knife out, I plunge it into his groin. He screams and thrashes, his werewolf genes