93. Norman
“But first, I need you to tell me something,” I said, my steps slow and deliberate as I moved forward. I was so close now that I could smell the fear rolling off him like sweat. He reeked of it.
Good.
That was exactly what I wanted. To taste it. To drown in it.
“Who sent you?” I growled, my voice crashing into him like a wave, sharp and merciless.
He flinched hard, the chains around his legs rattling in protest as they scraped against raw, bloodied skin. The iron shackles were too tight, digging deep into the flesh around his ankles, while his arms, stretched above his head, trembled from fatigue.
But still, he didn’t speak.
He turned his head, trying to avoid my eyes. I grabbed him by the hair, yanking it back with a cruel jerk. His neck twisted at an unnatural angle, an
