TWO DAYS LATER:
....
The underground reeked of metal, sweat, and burnt flesh. The walls were soundproof, but Dominic's rage still seemed to reverberate through the walls like an earthquake that couldn't be contained.
A man was tied to a steel chair. His wrists and ankles were bound so tightly that the rope cut into his skin. He was drenched in his own blood, sweat, and urine. An ugly combination of fear. His chest heaved like a cornered animal.
However, Dominic wasn't done.
He stood in front of the man, sleeves rolled up, and shirt already stained with streaks of crimson. His eyes had gone black, and remained empty. The warmth that came with Celeste was gone. Now, it was a void that devoured mercy.
He moved with the calm precision of someone who had lived with violence as naturally as other men lived with breathing.
