“Bring me the whip” Alpha Damon commanded, his jaw tightened, and his expression was hard as stone.
One of the guards quickly stepped forward and handed him a brutal looking weapon— it was lined with jagged edges, designed to rip through the skin when used on anyone.
The moment the whip was revealed, the air in the room thickened with dread.
The pack members stared wide-eyed at the whip in Alpha Damon's hands, their faces paled with a mixture of fear and regret. But it was too late.
Damon took the whip in his hands, holding it for a moment and weighing it with a grim satisfaction. He ran his thumb over the worn handle, and nodded in approval before handing it back.
The guard holding the whip remained silent, waiting for the order for him to begin. His eyes had a wicked glint to it.
