Chapter 142


    Not a moment after, Isaac walks back to where Val is sitting. I look to his gloved hands to find them


    both upier. He held not one, but two things.


    Nails and the silver scraper.


    Isaac catches my eyes and shrugs,


    “I couldn’t chose.”


    I shake my head in amusement and tuck my knuckles under my chin. Leaning forward at the edge of


    my seat, I take in the show in front of me.


    When I first started training to be an Alpha, Meredith had made me watch countless interrogation


    sessions with the rogues they’ve caught. It was visual training, she’d tell me. To see firsthand one of


    the many things I’d have to do as Alpha. It wasnt a matter of whether I can stomach doing such at thing


    or not, it was a matter if I could lie about stomaching it. At least, until I was out that door and away from


    the person detained.


    Morals, righteousness, humanity-


    none of that mattered the moment I stepped inside an interrogation room. The only thing that was


    deemed important was getting the answers I needed. No matter the method, extraction of answers was


    the objective. It didn’t matter if I was a saint; Alphas can’t be soft.


    It was their life versus the safety of my pack.


    It was as simple as that.


    Some of the first interrogations I’ve witnessed were led and executed by Meredith. Others were


    handled by Williams. As expected, the first time I saw one I could hardly watch for three minutes before


    I ran out the room to empty my stomach.


    Cruel, merciless, patient and tactful.


    You had to be all four.


    There was no sympathy or pity when in the process of interrogation.


    Sometimes I still find it hard doing that, but this time, it wasn’t a problem.


    Isaac squats down, taking the scraper and forces Val’s hand to open. Val tries his hardest to keep his


    fist closed, digging his nails into his palms with every means to keep his fist clenched through his


    resistance but Isaac’s patience wears thin. The minute Val’s hand loosened, Isaac wastes no time to


    take one of the nails and ms it into his middle finger, ffectively nailing Val’s hand to the armrest. In


    fact, he takes all of Val’s fingers and nails them down until his palm was exposed.


    Val cries out, eyes shutting tight at the pain, the silver burning into his flesh as he struggles in his seat.


    It wasn’t just the touch of silver that caused him pain. It was the fact that his body was trying to heal the


    wound yet still being in contact with silver that makes it unbearable. A wolves, our healing was faster.


    Small cuts would heal in a second, big wounds would heal in at least a day or two.


    So having silver piercing into you without it’s removal only adds to the pain by tenfold.


    Val’s breathing starts to quicken, harboring in deep quick intakes. He refuses to look at his hand, his


    head turned to the other direction until Isaac uses the scraper and digs the ridges into Val’s palm.


    Co On


    This is the property of N?-velDrama.Org.


    Isaac stills for a second, allowing Val to adjust to the soaring pain before pressing in harder.


    <


    Another jolt of agony zips through Val. His teeth grinds hard and his neck stiffens from strain. Veins pop


    form his forehead, neck, and even his arms are adorned with veins from the tightness his body has


    coiled into. Looking at me, Isaac stands by for my signal.


    “Do it.”


    Val howls, his bare feet digging into the ground. His toes curl, the heels of his feet drilling into the b


    of stone under him. Sweat pours down his forehead, his hair drenched from the salty excrete before it


    rolls down to his neck and over his bare chest. It’s almost amazing how much pain someone can


    endure. More so, wolves. Isaac drags down the scraper, a roll of flesh skimmed from Val’s palm to the


    ground. Ugly, angry, red, bloodied botches of inner flesh greeting me from Val’s hand. Isaac had dug so


    deep that i could see the beginnings of bones on the heel of his palm.


    Blood pours out of his palm. The liquid trails down the wood of the chair until drops of blood fall to the


    ground under him. Its a sickening sound, really.


    Drip.


    Drip.


    Drip.


    A steady rhythmic pattern of blood sttering on the floor until it forms a small pool of dark red. Only, it


    continues to grow.


    “You fucking… bitch. I- I’ll kill you for this. I’ll sl- slit your fucking throat wide open-”


    Isaac takes Val by the hair, yanking his head up -none too gently- so he could maintain eye contact


    with me. Anger pulses through our connection. His wolf ring down at Val from the disrespect and


    vulgarity directed toward me. I send him a quick wave offort, trying to soothe his wolf into a calmer


    state. From the way his fist rxed, I guessed it worked.


    Val was already slurring his words, murmuring to no one every so often with his eyelids drooping from


    the exhaustion and pain he was going through. Strapped down to the chair by the wrists and ankles, he


    was forced to sit still with heavy silver chains wrapped around him. My eyes flickered down to the burn


    marks marring his skin before meeting his enraged eyes once more.