The Making of a King
Father snaps and the males take me to the wall covered with different chains.
They lock my wrists, neck, and ankles to the wall on the shortest chains available. I can't move more than an inch from the wall even if I use all my strength.
"Let that silver ease you, Mutt. Maybe Daddy will let us take another ride on the Atticus train," Roger says as he gets real close to my face.
"You are sick," I murmur while staring him dead in the eyes.
He smiles and shrugs before stepping away from me.
"I have my preferences, but I don't turn down fresh meat," Roger says evenly like we are discussing the weather and I spit at him.