MORAG WAS HANDCUFFED to a chair in the middle of the back room. As if that wasn’t bad enough, she sported a beautiful bruise across her cheek bone, spreading into a discolouration around her left eye. She barely looked up as we entered.
Through the red mist that appeared in front of me, I saw Michael had been scribbling on a notepad. He dropped the pen on the desk when he saw us.
“I hope that’s your will,” said the Beast.
“Excuse me?”
“Are you suicidal?”
As I stepped forward, not sure whether I was going to free Morag first or leave that until I’d killed everyone else in the room, I noticed Damien leaning back in a chair against one wall, drink in hand. That wasn’t right. He wasn’t supposed to be there. My killing spree hit a temporary speed bump.
Michael stood up, with a g*n in the
