#hisredemption

nooooooyes. yes i did.

     Derek was held in a basement, ropes braided with wolfsbane and twisted around his chest, his thighs, his wrists and both ankles. At least they had given him a chair. Considerate, given the fact that the floor was flooded with a foot of water that they regularly turned a live wire on and into. His brain foggy, Derek supposed that four days had passed and not once had one of them visited. No food, no water.     The hope that raised in his throat at seeing Scott’s figure come trotting down the stairs was short lived. He wasn’t here to help him or save him. Scott was no longer an ally; Scott was behind this. His body language explained to Derek exactly what Scott was here for – the clench of his fist, the grind of his teeth, the red bleeding into his eyes.      Oh, this was going to be bad.     Derek could take a beating - of course he could, he was a damn werewolf, had been an Alpha for a time - but he’d never taken a beating like this. Spitting teeth, chunks of his tongue out of his mouth as he got a break between the fists only long enough for the True Alpha to bring his shoulder back in order to roll another one his way.      Eyes nearly swollen shut, he breathed in a shuddering breath that burned his throat where Scott had gripped it. “Why?” burned just as badly.     His answer was a growl and a punch that left him unconscious.

#amused