Shadow Code: Descendant's Wrath

Chapter 9

Malcolm's eyes flickered open, the hazy fog of unconsciousness gradually lifting as he found himself bound to a chair in the dimly lit basement. Panic surged through him as he instinctively struggled against the restraints, only to find them unforgivingly tight.

Alistair sat facing him, his posture relaxed yet exuding an air of quiet authority. Malcolm's gaze narrowed with defiance as he attempted to break free from his bonds, but Alistair's casual remark drew a snort of disdain from him.

"You think this is a joke?" Malcolm retorted, his voice laced with contempt. "You have no idea what you're getting yourself into."

Alistair remained unruffled, his expression impassive as he met Malcolm's glare with a cool gaze. "On the contrary," he replied, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement. "I know exactly what I'm doing."

"Bullshit," Malcolm retorted. "You're playing a very dangerous game here, young man."

"Really?" Alistair raised an eyebrow. "And what am I going to lose? My life? Seems like you've got that covered no matter what."

Malcolm chuckled softly and shook his head. "I have no idea what you're talking about, kid," he said.

Alistair's eyes narrowed. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about," he said. "You see, you might have done some research about me - where I live, who I know, but I don't think you really grasp just what I can do."

Malcolm raised his head slightly. "There's nothing you can do to tell me what I want to know because I don't know anything."

Alistair sighed. "Does that line ever get boring?" He wondered. "Maybe not. How many times have you been caught? This was probably a surprise."

"You're fucking crazy, kid," Malcolm sneered.

Alistair jumped up from his chair. "Yeah? Maybe I am. But fuckin crazy or not, I know you've tried to kill me twice now and I just want to fucking know why."

Malcolm's bravado faltered, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he masked it with a defiant scowl. "I don't owe you any answers," he growled, his voice tinged with defiance.

Alistair's gaze bore into him, unwavering in its intensity. "Maybe not," he conceded, his tone calm yet tinged with steel. "But you owe it to yourself to start talking before things get a lot worse for you."

The tension in the room thickened as silence settled between them, each man locked in a silent battle of wills. Alistair waited patiently, his senses attuned to every subtle shift in Malcolm's demeanor.

Malcolm shifted uncomfortably in his chair, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple as he glanced around the dimly lit basement. "You think you can intimidate me?" he scoffed, attempting to regain his composure.

Alistair's lips curled into a sardonic smile. "I don't need to intimidate you," he replied coolly. "Your actions have already spoken volumes."

The dim light cast eerie shadows across the basement as Alistair paced back and forth, his movements deliberate and measured. Each step echoed in the stillness of the room, amplifying the tension that hung thick in the air.

Alistair stopped in front of a small table, his eyes fixed on Malcolm with unwavering intensity. "You should care," he remarked, his voice cutting through the silence like a knife. "Because what I do can make your life a living hell."

Malcolm's jaw clenched, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features as he regarded Alistair warily. "I'm not afraid of you," he declared, though the tremor in his voice betrayed his bravado.

Alistair's lips curled into a predatory smile. "You should be," he retorted, his tone laced with a quiet menace. "Because I have ways of making you talk that don't involve physical torture."