The room was damp, and the smell was a mixture of mold, sweat, and blood. Alpha Arthur swung the whip again, but Matthew didn’t let out a single sound like before. It was getting frustrating that it had been over a week, and Arthur still hadn’t gotten Matthew to talk or even cry out in pain as he tortured him. He stopped as Matthew once more slipped into unconsciousness and threw the whip to the ground, cursing. He walked outside and slammed the metal door to the cell.
“I take it things went better this time?” the vampire, Cronin, asked in the same monotone as always.
“Still won’t give me so much as a sound,” Arthur growled and pulled his sleeves down and put on his blazer.
“So, you’re no closer to figuring out if your daughter and the others had any plan in motion,” the vampire said as
