Hoarse cries of anguish and desperation reverberated through the dungeon.
The werewolf thrashed against its restraints, its desperate howls gradually devolving into ragged, agonized screams.
Adam could be very petty.
And this time, he had every intention of indulging that particular flaw.
The pain he had endured in this very dungeon had never truly left his memories. Every wound, every moment of helplessness, every agonizing second when the werewolf had methodically broken him down, Adam remembered all of it.
And now, he intended to return every bit of that pain severalfold.
He would do things to the beast that it could never have imagined. Things so cruel that even the memories of his own torture paled in comparison.
But Adam had no intention of killing it.
No.
Death would be far too merciful.
He would heal the werewolf whenever its injuries became too severe. He would repair its body, restore its strength, and then begin again. And again. And again.
