FRIENDLY CHAT WITH THE ENEMY...

Damon's phone rang with a call from Jackson, unsure if it was safe or not for the girl to hear the contents of the call whatever they may be. He plugged his Bluetooth device in his ear before accepting the call "yes??"

"Come to the eastern warehouse, we caught one of the invaders," Jackson informed, the muscles on Damon's clenched jaw. His grip around the steering wheel tightening in both anticipation and anger, finally they had found someone for him to vent all of his frustration on.

"I'm on my way" he said, before ending the call and took the Bluetooth device out of his ear, tossed it inside the cup holder and focused back on the road.

An hour and a half later, he stopped outside his friend's home and patiently waited for the girl to get all of her shopping bags from inside his trunk before driving off to the said warehouse. Suspecting nothing, Lilliana walked in the house heading straight upstairs to her bedroom with the shopping bags. Dropping them on her bed, she took off her blazer, her jordans suffocating her feet and undid her tie before getting on the bed to unpack. Starting with Tessa's gift, she placed it inside one of the nightstand drawers.

Meanwhile, in the eastern warehouse just outside the city about three hours away from the Barnette residence. A man sat in the middle of the dimly lit basement bound to a steel chair. As he waited for Damon, he was subjected to a tirade of abuse and different methods of torture from Jackson and some of his men. They had strangled him, beat him, broke some of his bones, peeled some of his fingernails and as a final touch to their work of art nailed both of his palms flat on the chair's armrests. Everytime his body succumbed to the pain, they poured freezing cold water with ice still in it over his head to keep him awake.

Jackson warned him that what they were doing was just a warm up compared to what Damon was going to do to him once he arrived but the man stubbornly kept mum, he refused to say a word against his boss.

He flinched when the basement door suddenly opened and lifted his head to see whom it was this time, there for their share of torturing his already battered body. There wasn't a part on his body that wasn't bruised His body hurt so much, in so many different ways that he couldn't focus on anything else. He hated being in his own skin more so that he felt death would be a blessing, one he'd never get a chance to neither accept nor decline. Damon was never going to let him go that easily without getting the answers to all of his questions.

Damon stepped in the room and walked to the steel table by the wall brandishing different torturing devices. He took off his jacket and neatly placed it on the table before approaching the bleeding man in the room, moaning and groaning in pain with every breath he took. He stopped in front of him and grabbed a chair, placed it a couple of feet away from him and sat down comfortably leaning his back on the backrest with his legs manspread. He silently examined his bruises searching for a place to put his mark and felt proud when he found none. His men had done quite an impressive job on their victim.

Leaning forward, a sharp tool flashed in his tattooed hands as he spoke ...his personal favourite weapon. A double blade dagger with his initials engraved on its side "This is what we're going to continue doing, for every wrong answer you give I'll rip off one of your body parts ...there's plenty you don't need to be alive" he paused, to see the desired effect of his words on the man.

The look on his face sinister, cold and calculating as he continued "...and when there's nothing else left, I'll think of something else but I will never let you die so I suggest you start talking" he leaned back in his seat, giving his victim a chance to make the right decision but of course he chose the latter.

"Fuck you" the man spewed in his thick Russian accent and immediately clenched his teeth suppressing another moan of pain as his gums ached in areas where his tooth were now missing. He spit blood at Damon to show his disgust and disregard for the man, the blood landing on the man's shining shoe. Instead of losing control and snapping his neck out of anger, Damon calmly reached in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to wipe it clean before getting up and walked back to the table to put on a plastic apron and a pair of plastic sleeves to protect his clothes from any of the blood splatters.

His eyes once again scanned over every tool capable of inflicting pain in its own way when handled right by the right hand and stopped on his dagger. Taking it back in his hand, he traced its sharp edge with his finger leaving a small crimson line behind. His lips stretched into a creepy lopsided grin as he stalked back to his victim, spinning the sharp blade between his fingers.

“One last chance, who sent you??" He asked, hovering dangerously over the man. Shaking with fear and in pain the man said nothing, he was taught betrayal was not an option from where he came from but sacrifices were necessary and he would rather take hours of torture than give him up ...that's how terrified he was of his boss. But his determination and stupid show of his loyalty was slowly faltering as Damon worked on his body, as promised he didn't hold back. Slicing his left ear from his head and threw it on his lap before walking around him to cut off his other ear, then walked around to pay attention to his face.

Holding his head back with one hand he used the other to gauge out the first eye, a blood curdling scream filled the room as he tried to get away from his attacker. Damon continued until he fell unconscious, he felt the side of his neck for a pulse and sighed when he had one but it was very faint. He couldn't afford to have the man die, if not answers to his questions then he'll surely beg for death. Standing upright he took a step back from him and asked "Any news on the trucks??" taking off the plastics that've been protecting him.

"We found the trucks.." Jackson said, leaning against the wall behind him with a cigarette between his lips. Letting out a silver cloud of smoke he continued with a shrug " ...but they were empty, they took the cocaine with them when they fled from our guys"

Damon let out an exasperated groan, walking back to the steel table to get his jacket, he was slowly losing his patience with the idiotic Russians who thought taking England from him was the best idea. It had taken him years to get all four countries of the United Kingdom under his reign and he was not about to give them away without a fight, a fight in which they'll die of course.

"Check all the harbour ports, it's gonna be hard for them to transport that much cocaine ...I'll go check on Lilly" he said before walking out of the warehouse and getting inside his car, he drove back to his friend's house.

Walking in, he found Lilliana sound asleep on a sofa in the living room curdling a fury ball and the tv still playing. Not wanting to disturb her sleep, he left his jacket on the table in the welcoming hall and made his way toward her. Scowling when the ball moved, as Snowflake cautiously lifted her head at the sound of approaching footsteps to see whom it was but soon relaxed when she noticed a familiar face and rested its head back on its front paws. Damon rolled his eyes and grabbed a throw on the sofa's armrest and spread it over the girl's sleeping form. He turned the TV off and walked up the stairs to his bedroom to freshen up before going to sleep.