He looked down upon a man bound in a chair. Marco – Aurelia's home invader and assaulter – sat in the chair, head bowed and swaying back and forth from side to side. He sat in the chair, naked – a tactic of humiliation to remove any ideal of power that he may have had in his mind. His body was covered in blood, bruises, dirt and sweat, evidence of the copious amount of torture he endured.
Yet, it wasn’t enough.
"You weren’t able to get anything out of him?" Abaddon glared at the bound man, a pawn in what he believed was a twisted game. His mind swirled with a concoction of frustration and a primal thirst for retribution. The silence that followed hung heavy, a prelude to the storm about to erupt.
He hated hiding in the recesses of his own estate. But in his hands, he held the unravel
