Your white room; straight jacket

So the young man had taken him back to Lirim, exactly as Forsaken had wanted. He canted his head to one side from where he lay, certain that a guard was somewhere nearby watching him. Even if there wasn’t, which would be foolishness on the part of the pack, he wasn’t going to run. Forsaken had relished in feeling pain again, in having someone dare stand up to him and use their fangs  upon his flesh. He hadn’t even bothered to try and clean the wounds, his golden gaze shining with a look of glee. So they finally figured it out… but who really would get the blame for his actions? Dear little Ganta? He barked out a harsh laugh. His siblings didn’t even realize the wonderful opportunity he was trying to stir up!

“Idiots…” Forsaken mumbled to himself, his head lowering to his paws. All he had to do now was bide his time, wait for the next wave of pain. For oh how he loved pain, being the masochist he was, almost as much as he enjoyed delivering it upon others. An ear twitched and the brute closed his eyes. Perhaps, he thought to himself, he wouldn’t even need to wait that long. If he really wanted to he could always stir up trouble with his guard… or even go after the alpha boy himself.

There was fun to be had one way or another.