Twenty Six year old Blake Hunter is the Alpha of the largest pack in the region. Finding his mate is the last thing on his mind.
But, in the midst of dealing with uninvited relations, aspiring future Lunas and increasing rogue attacks on his easter...
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He wasn't afraid.
It was that more than anything else that left Blake torn between his anger and a begrudging admiration.
At some point during his brief spell under Asher's watchful eye, he'd been provided with a rough-hewn shirt and ragged pair of shorts that had seen so many better days, they could barely be called clothes. The multitude of scars littering his exposed chest spoke of a life filled with violence.
"I'm going to ask you a few questions, Fenrik," Blake addressed the prisoner in the metal chair. Careful to keep his wolf firmly under control, Blake stalked towards him. "And I expect some straight answers."
"Expect away," the rogue smirked, his eyes never leaving the Alpha's piercing gaze.
There was a growl from the corner.
"Oh, I wouldn't get too cocky," Alex interjected, baring his teeth into a vicious grin. Glancing around the tiny cell, the Gamma's eyes fell on an old stand still clinging to the wall by a couple of rusty nails. Various weapons had been dumped inside, left behind by prisoners past, and he plucked from amongst them, a serviceable silver knife.
The handle was worn and moulded to another's grip, but the blade still gleamed like new - the edge kept razor sharp by its former owner. "This'll do nicely," Alex murmured, twirling the knife around in his fingers. He approached the prisoner with an almost casual stroll. "You know," he said, a ripple of anger running through his words. "I lost a lot of good warriors today."
Blake watched indulgently as his Gamma pressed the tip of his blade against the rogues leg, the sharp edge slicing cleanly through the fabric of his shorts.
Fenrik began to laugh. "Is that your big plan?" His chains clinked as his chest rumbled with mirth. "Torture? Please," he scoffed. "You don't have what it takes."
"You sure about that?" Alex growled, his eyes darkening and he ran the blade further up the rogues leg, the edge nicking the skin in a razor thin, red line.
Fenrik returned the Gamma's harsh grin with one of his own, and leaned forward as far as his chains would allow. "I've faced wolves far crueller than you, Gamma. Wolves who really mean it when they threaten you. You think you can scare me?" His face twisted into a condescending expression. "You have no idea what you're doing." He rolled his eyes in Blake's direction. "Call off your pup, Alpha, it's embarrassing."
Without anyone even attempting to stop him, Alex leaned back and punched the obnoxious mercenary in the face, the impact splitting his lip and reopening one of the cuts on his cheek.
A futile gesture, Blake admitted, but onr that looked immensely satisfying.
Fenrik let out a shout of laughter, the harsh rasp bouncing off the stone walls, like fingernails on a chalkboard. "Much better," he said approvingly, rubbing at his jaw. "But next time, try and put more weight into it."
