"It's either eat, or be eaten..."
_____
It's been six months since Andre's disappearance, the Spread, and the boys' separation.
With a blocking barrier between all four boys, they have no idea where the others are, or if they're even alive.
So, what...
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SUNDAY AFTERNOON _____
Armani laughed, snorting as that was the funniest thing he's heard in a long while. His hand tightened its grasp on the boy's neck as he sobered his laughter, his onyx eyes glared down at the pest in his grip.
"I won't be the only Hunter coming after you, y'know? There's more that know all about you and your friends," the boy wheezed, his pulse quickening under his skin. "They will destroy you," he sneered.
"Let them try, and we'll see what happens," Armani sneered, his power radiating off of him in dark waves, making the boy in his hold shiver in fear.
"What are you gonna do to me?" he whispered, his lips quivering and his eyes burning with tears.
Armani smiled, showing off his pearly-white fangs.
"I'm gonna eat."
And with that, Armani's razor-like fangs sank into the Hunter's throat, shaking his head like a rabid dog as he ripped the poor boy apart.
He reveled in his agonizing screams, getting drunk off of the taste of his blood on his tongue as he chomped and chomped away until the only sounds left in the cellar were the sounds of snapping bones and sloshing blood.
With a grunt, Armani dropped the Hunter's lifeless body—or what was left of it—on the floor, his boot clad foot slipping in the blood that covered the ground.
His onyx eyes glanced around, looking for the shirt the young Hunter ripped from his body when he was first kidnapped.
"Come on man, where'd you put my shit?" he tsked, a grimace on his face as he peered down at the mess he left. "Sorry," he winced.
Walking around, he found nothing.
But that was okay, back at his makeshift home, he had a duffle of clothes he'd looted from broken down apparel stores. That, along with matches and canned foods even though he still ate people.
Sighing, he ran a bloody hand through his hair as he climbed up the rickety stairs, wincing at the bright rays of sunlight that hit his retinas.
"It's about time you got out," a familiar voice began, making Armani look to his left. A smile on his face as he realized who his visitor was.
"Hey, Joey," he greeted, taking the water bottle Joey handed him, yanking the cap off and chugging.
"Thirsty much? Didn't you drink enough blood from that guy you mauled in there?" Joey joked, watching as water droplets slid down Armani's bruised chest.
