Awakening the White Wolf
Still, he had the audacity to meet my gaze when I entered.
“Name,” I demanded.
“Tomas,” he answered, spitting blood onto the stone floor.
“Do you know what they call me,” I crouched in front of him, slow and quiet. “Tomas?”
“They call me the Wolf King,” I murmured, while his jaw clenched “Do you know why?”
“Because I don’t bark. I don’t threaten.” I leaned in, voice soft. “I end. So I’ll ask you one last time, and if you lie to me again, I will rip your tongue out with my bare hands and feed it to you.”
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