“Whoa, whoa!” tattoo-face shouted when he walked back into the room.
Immediately, the strong scent of a steak and cheese sandwich filled my nose. My stomach growled again but I kept my eyes down. I refused to show them how much the smell was getting to me.
I had no idea when I ate last but my mouth watered and I swallowed repeatedly to keep them from noticing.
“Alpha Chandler said not to spoil her, remember?” tattoo-face said.
One-eye snarled and pulled the knife from my finger.
My pinky stung where the blade had cut through my skin and a sliver of blood formed. It wasn’t a bad wound.
“Well, he’ll change his tune eventually. For now, leave her to starve.”
***
Two days.
For two days one-eye starved me and beat me.
He didn’t even ask any questions. He was just trying to break me down.
Every visit, he’d threaten me, call me names, call my mother names, and smack me around.
I kept my mouth clamped shut.