"I heard a rumor," Gideon drawled, his voice laced with dark amusement. "The Alpha of the Dark Wolves is being buried today."
He tilted his head, watching the trembling werewolf chained before him.
"Isn't that just wonderful news?" he murmured, a wicked smile curling his lips as he stoked the flames beneath the glowing iron rod.
The werewolf snarled weakly, his voice trembling with defiance. "Don't... don't get comfortable. She will take his place."
The words tumbled out before he could stop himself. His eyes widened in regret, but it was too late.
"Oh?" Gideon paused, his grin deepening as he turned to face his captive fully. "He has an heir?"
The werewolf's silence was answer enough.
Gideon chuckled, low and menacing, as he picked up the red-hot iron. The air crackled with heat, the scent of fear thickening in the room.
"How intriguing," he said, pressing the searing metal into the werewolf's fur. The agonized howl that followed echoed through the chamber, a symphony of suffering Gideon savored.
"Let's make it two burials, then," he said, his tone a chilling mix of glee and menace.
The werewolf writhed, his cries fading into pained whimpers.
Gideon leaned closer, his dark eyes gleaming. "How wonderful indeed."