Violence warning, may not be suitable for all audiences.

Cameron

While Alara was at her dinner with her father, where I didn't have to worry about her going missing again, I made my way over to the Wolfsbane house, Owen had caught some of the attackers and it was out job to find out why they had done it.

There was heavier security around the Ross household, more gang members flanking each corner of the property.

"State your business," one of the guards grunted at me as I made my way to the entrance.

It was then Owen walked over behind him, "Stand down Johnson, he's with me," the guard gave me a withering look before begrudgingly opening the gates and letting me through.

"More security then?" I questioned as we began to walk through the base.

"More than ever after what happened, I can't risk another attack, I'm sure you've done the same," he responded as we waded out way through grey hallways to an enclosed area of the building.

The door was locked with a fingerprint scanner that Owen pressed his thumb against, after a moment the heavy set metal doors swung open with a deafening screeched that echoed down the dark tunnel behind it.

The only source of light were flickering oil lamps that appeared to be in the wrong era, they didn't have the same hum as the electric lights above us, and they cast dark shadows against the already matted walls.

"So this is the place that people mean when they say a traitor will never see the light of day if they ever betray the Wolfsbane."

Owen smirked at the children's rhyme that I had recited, it had been instilled in the youth the power of the gangs and their notoriety had made its way into the songs they would sing.

"It is always through a child's eyes that, the truth is beholden."

Soon we made it through the winding tunnels, as the amount of light dwindled the number of groans of anguish increased. Ragged thin hands would reach through the bars, as screams of torture rang true. But none of it phased me, violence had been in my blood for too long for it to be able to stain me anymore.

"How many did you manage to detain?" I asked as we wound round the corner to the darkest part of the cells.

"We only managed to get three of them but I think that will be enough," Owen explained as he pulled a rusted key from his back pocket and jammed it into the lock. I heard the barrels click falling out of place to allow the metal door to be swung open.

And there crouched on the floor where three hunched over figures, blood spatters around them, all of them with crushed masks in front of them. Their signature black shirts had been torn to reveal a tattoo on each of them, the same drama mask their leader had been wearing, of a joker's grin and malice all in one face.

As soon as I stepped in the putrid stench of rot filled my nose, the acrid taste of blood in the air and sweat pealing off of the prisoners.

"You seemed to already have started Owen, always taking away the fun," I made sure to show my malevolent grin to the three men, I wanted their blood to run cold, their minds filled with all the awful possibilities of what could happen to them. Now that I, the most ruthless Viper was here to devour its prey.

The middle man, started to cough and sputter, a large clot of blood heaved up from his throat mixed with spittle landed in front of him, punctuated with a groan of agony.

I crouched down so I was eye level with the man who looked the worst off amongst them. He would be easy to break so I would start there.

"Now then, do you want to do this the easy way or the hard way?"

Silence met my question and I wasn't having that. Without a second thought I grasped him by his hair forcefully pulling his head up so that his eyes met mine, so he could see the cynicism in them, that he knew I was not here to play.

He wailed in pain, a guttural sound tearing through him as I bent his neck backwards forcing pressure on the back of his head, "You answer me when I ask you a question, understand?"

Foolishly the prisoner nodded, which just made me pull his head back further, tugging roughly on his hair and twisting to inflict the most pain possible, "I said do you understand?"

"Yes, Oh God yes, just stop please," I didn't loosen my grip at his request, they could not think that mere begging would allow me to forgive them for what they had done to what was mine.

No I only released my grip suddenly so the force of his head snapping back would crash on him all at once disorienting him and giving him another dose of pain, "Now then, Owen, which one has told you the most, I'll go easy on that one."

Owen pretending to ponder carefully about the question while I studied the three, hope flared in the man furthest to the right's eyes, and I knew I had misjudged the middle as being the weak link. I could see it in the fear laced in those eyes, that he was ready to talk. To divulge all the secrets I needed.

His fervent glances to the man beside him, told me he didn't want to suffer the same. It was the one on the left I knew would be the hardest to break, his face was stoic his posture not showing that of pain, his tolerance probably much higher than them.

"I think he," he pointed to the man on the right and I knew my assumption had been right, "Will squeal the easiest."

I got up from my crouched position and stalked over to the man in question, I heard a pathetic whimper and I knew this was about to be very satisfying.

I plastered on a fake smile, levelling myself with the snivelling man, and speaking quietly so only he could hear, "Hello there, I am sure you want the easy way out of this, so why don't you tell me everything I want to know,"

He shook his head slightly probably a reflex, but it was enough to rub me the wrong way.

"Now that's not what I asked did I?" I reached into my back pocket and slipped out my gun, I carefully opened the barrel counting each bullet before flicking it shut and cocking it.

I pressed the cool metal against the bobbing Adam's apple of my first victim, the fear in his eyes sending a spike of adrenaline through me, "Let's try this again, you're going to tell me everything I want to know," to emphasise my point I lightly pressed my finger to the trigger, millimetres away from planting a bullet straight through his neck.

"Yes, Yes of course," he had already broken and I hadn't even got to the fun part.

"You snivelling bitch," the man on the end roared, his voice booming through the enclosed cell, ringing with power but that was power I would destroy in a moment, "You fucking traitor shut your trap before I do it for you,"

Now this had peaked my interest, I removed the gun from the whimpering man and made my way over to the one who had dared assert power where it wasn't warranted. He really wanted to act like the tough guy, but there has never been a person that I couldn't break.

Owen's glare matched my own, he too had pulled out his gun and was ready to plant a bullet in the prisoners head, but I stopped him.

"Oh will you now tough guy? You think that after I'm through with you, you won't be squealing like him," he glared defiantly at me cold black eyes swirling with confidence a sneer carved into his face. Bruises peppered his face, but he had a gruff countenance.

"You think this is all we can do," I pressed my thumb against a newly forming bruise near his temple, he hissed as I applied a pressure to the sensitive skin.

"Just one little press and you're already crying out in pain?" I laughed mirthlessly, pulling my fist back and punching him square in the jaw adding another bruise to his collection.

He reeled back, letting out an outburst of curses, blood was pooling from his lips, and he had the nerve to spit the blood in my face.

I felt the hot liquid slide down my cheek, vexation flaring through my bones, I took the back of my hand and wiped the mixture of spit and blood from my face. The moment he saw the murderous look on my face, he began singing a different tune.

"You're going to pay for that," I seethed, and in a moment I was in front of him, shoving my gun into his mouth where the blood had come from. His chocked on the metal, gagging as I forced the weapon further down his throat, I hovered my finger over the trigger, watching as the other two men looked at me in horror.

Owen stood behind, watching with respect in his eyes.

"Beg for forgiveness," I yelled, my voice the only sound reverberating through the halls, a deadly sound that demanded recognition.

He sputtered still with the gun forced in his mouth trying to get words out but failing miserably. I turned to Owen cupping my ear dramatically, "I can't hear an apology can you?"

My voice had a tilt to it, almost sing song in fashion a mockery to those that had dared cross me.

Owen played alone shaking his head, "No Cam, I can't hear a thing,"

"Neither can I."

"Mhmm" more indistinguishable sounds spouted from the man around my gun, and it was wearing my patience thin. After a few more moments of my gun taking over the mans mouth, I removed it, it was slick with spit that I used his torn shirt to wipe off, deliberately banging my gun against his jaw as I lifted it.

His teeth clashed together as he gulped for air, his eyes glossy with tears that spilled from angry eyes.

"Now then, who want's to tell me what the hell you thought you were doing trying to kidnap my wife."

"That bitch is worth more than you think," the largest man bellowed out, how foolish of him to use his first words without a gun lodged in his mouth to disrespect Alara.

"What did you say?" my voice was deathly quiet and he had realised his second mistake a moment too late.

I had already cocked my gun and aimed from his shoulder, firing and watching the bullet tear through the flesh I had intended it to. I didn't want to kill him not yet anyways, I would want to watch him suffer.

He let out an agonising cry, and with his hands still bound behind him he could not cover the wound. Blood gushed from the bullet whole, thick and red, mixing with trails of salty sweat just adding to the pain which gave me a brilliant idea.

"Salt in the wound, that would really burn," he could see the glee in my eyes as he realised what I had been planning.

"No, please no," Oh how the mighty had fallen, his fighting words had died in the back of his throat.

"You don't happen to have any salt do you Owen," I walked back over to him, seeing the approval in his eyes as he realised what I was about to do.

"It's funny you should mention that, I happen to have an assortment of salts over here, " he pointed to a worn cabinet, I flung it open to see an array of alcoholic drinks and some different types of salts.

"I sometimes get thirsty during these interrogations," Owen explained and I just nodded, pulling out a vial of salt.

"This will do just fine," I stalked over to the man who had dared speak a word against Alara.

I poured some of the fine white salt on my finger tips, he tried to shrink back away from me, but he was too bound to escape my clutches.

I deposited more salt in my fingers, jamming them into the bullet hole wound, the reaction was instantaneous, the brute of a man began howling in pain.

Sweat beaded across his brow falling in rivulets against his worn skin.

"Stop please, please," but his reaction just made me push more salt in the wound.

He cried out some more and something in me stirred at the sound, I didn't feel an ounce of remorse and it was then I realised that there was something very much dead inside me, no normal person could do this without blinking an eye. But for Alara I would do anything.

I stopped pressing the salt into the man's arm, and I walked back over to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of vodka.

"Let me clean that for you," I uncorked the bottle, watching fear flare in once cold eyes.

He began to beg, degenerating into a mess of pleas a far cry from the prideful man he had been when I first entered. I always had a knack for breaking people especially the mafiosos of a group.

I could no longer hear the grating of his pleas against my ears, all I could see was someone that needed to learn their place, and learn that they should never mess with me or those I cared about.

Owen watched with morbid curiosity as I began to pour the alcohol over the wound, yes it would disinfect the wound but it would also burn like a bitch on his skin. I was doing him a favour in a twisted way, but my true intentions was just to keep him alive for longer so I could torture him further.

What I hadn't expected was the large man to faint.

The juggernaut fell backwards, eyes rolling back and his consciousness leaving him as his head smacked against the concrete floor.

"Well isn't that something, you knocked the bugger out," Owen obsereved.

I turned to the remaining two prisoners, their jaws slackened with fear and horror.

I grinned back at them, baring my teeth.

"Who's next?"