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."

"Are you sure we can't kill him yet?" Alex appealed to his Alpha. "Because, I really want to kill him."

The question hung in the air, so loaded with consequence, Blake could taste it. His lips tingled in anticipation - the tang of rusty iron and dried blood mingling with a sharp bite of silver dust that floated, invisible in the air around them.

The Alpha stared silently into the eyes of the mercenary who had caused such chaos within his pack and for a moment, just for a moment, he seriously contemplated saying yes.

Asher stepped forwards before his contemplation could become a reality. "May I have a go?" he enquired politely.

Blake raised his eyebrow. "I thought you didn't approve?" he asked his brother silently.

"I don't particularly," Asher agreed. "But you have me here, so you might as well make use of me." He raised one perfect eyebrow. "Besides, do you really want to torture him that badly? Come on, you're not Ethan or Michael. And neither am I. There's a much easier way to get your answers."

Blake grimaced, but stepped to one side, allowing Asher to drag in a second chair and settle down in front of Fenrik, who looked suddenly intrigued.

"Ah, the Delta," Fenrik smirked, wiping a smear of blood from his cheek. "That's more like it. Ask away, magic user."

"Tell me about the rogues that wear the three clawed tattoo," Asher started softly, ignoring Fenrik's jibe. "We know they're led by the one you called Elron. When did you start working for him?"

Fenrik smirked again, but kept his lips pressed together.

Asher's eyes brightened, the green rising from the depths to swirl around his irises. They stared at each other intently for a second, and he turned towards his brother. "Okay so... not working for him."

"How do you know that?" Alex protested. "He hasn't said anything."

"He doesn't need to," Asher murmured, turning back to the rogue. "You weren't working for them. But they were working with you, even if they didn't know it. How did you do it?"

Fenrik's smile faltered and a look of confusion flickered across his face.

"The attack at the hospital, the kidnapping? It took some skill to time your attacks to line up with theirs to pull them off."

"We had men watching the rogues as well as you," Fenrik admitted, watching Asher's eyes carefully. "Knew you'd pin the blame on them." He tilted his head to one side and peered at Asher. "Interesting," he murmured to himself, before shrugging mildly, the shackles clinking as he moved. "I knew when they were going to attack and I took full advantage of the situation. We slipped over the border about a mile south of them. I mean, what's three more rogue scents amongst so many? We gave our scents time to mingle with theirs and... the rest is history." He sniffed. "Could have been in and out before you even blinked. Should have been. I must admit, I underestimated your warriors, oh-mighty-Alpha. They pack quite a punch."

"And the earlier attack?" Blake interjected. "When we first found Hannah?"

Fenrik frowned. "There was no earlier attack. I sent a couple of scouts to hide along your borders and eavesdrop on your patrols is all. Closest we came to crossing your borders, honest." He peered over at Blake, the grin returning to his face. "Your men gossip like a gaggle of teenage girls. Three days and I knew more about your pack than you do. You might want to work on that."

I'll bear it in mind," Blake snapped coldly.

Asher's lip twitched and he was careful to avoid his brother's eye.

He's enjoying this, Blake thought sourly.

Of course he is, Rothan sniffed. He's got a captive audience.

Blake rolled his eyes.

"What did you need the scouts for?" Asher asked Fenrik, his expression suggesting he already knew the answer.

"To make sure we had the right girl, of course!" Fenrik scoffed with a look of irritation. "Planning. It's so important. You research, you plan, then you act... it's what keeps you alive in this game." He sniffed again. "Luckily, warriors are the same no matter the pack, the location or the species. They like to air their grievances on a regular basis, just in case they forget they've got them for too long."

He squinted up at the Alpha with a look of genuine appreciation. "Your punishment beastings must be particularly impressive... they couldn't wait to complain about the Scottish red-head that somehow snuck past them."

Alex growled again and Fenrik's grin widened even further, enjoying the Gamma's discomfort. "The reports were highly entertaining," he continued. "Theories ranged from her being a witch all the way to, and this was my personal favourite, a siren sent to lure their Alpha into the hands of the rogues."

Asher snorted softly and Marcus rolled his eyes. "I wonder where they got that theory from?" the Beta muttered under his breath, glaring at Alex.

"It would explain why we've not been able to spot a pattern in the attacks," Alex conceded, two heightened spots of colour on his cheeks. "There's been two separate sets of rogues breaching the borders."

"So maybe the two attacks today were separate, and the rogues were hoping we'd take out a mutual enemy?" Blake mused. "and their attack was supposed to buy their man more time to kill Hannah but they miscalculated because of Asher's witch?"

"Who came up with that one?" Asher asked curiously.

"Issac," Blake admitted. "You're right, the boy's got potential."

"Are you sure you don't want to lend him to me?" his brother begged, his eyes bright with longing. "Just for a few months. I can teach him everything he needs to know about the game. Sneaking, spying, counterintelligence..."

"Sneaking's a game?" Marcus queried.

"It is if you do it right," Asher smirked. "Seriously though," he turned back to his brother. "We should negotiate. I have a couple of families wanting to transfer inland to a pack further away from the humans. I was considering sending them to father, but..."

"You really want him that badly?" Blake asked.

"You have no idea," Asher grinned. "Think about it, one year in my pack and he'll have enough skills that you don't need to keep, calling on me anymore!"

"I can spare him!" Alex piped up with sudden enthusiasm. "What?" he said innocently when Marcus glared at him.

"I don't mean to break up your friendly discussion," Fenrik spoke up, sarcasm dripping from every word. "But these chains are incredibly uncomfortable. I don't suppose we can hurry this up a little, can we?"

Blake leaned forward and, almost lazily, punched him in the face again. It was petty but, damn! He's been right. It did feel good. "Shut up until you're spoken to," he admonished mildly.

Fenrik let out a defiant growl, his wolf echoing through his voice in the strange duality that inflicted all rogues.

Without thought, Blake snatched the silver knife from Alex and pressed it firmly against the rogues heart. "This probably won't kill you," he admitted, letting the tip pierce the skin. "But it will leave you screaming for several hours. You want to chance it?"

"Tempting as that sounds --" Fenrik drawled, still showing no signs of fear. "I think I'll pass."

"Wise decision," Asher murmured, watching his brother relinquish the knife. "What happened during the siege?" he asked, eyeing the knife on the table. "Your men were well trained and well organised. You know, if you'd stayed on the wall, you might actually have succeeded in stopping us breaching."

Fenrik offered him a scathing look. "If I'd stayed on the wall, your little redhead would be dead round about now. You owe me."

Rothan snarled. We don't owe this creature anything.

Blake was inclined to agree. "If it weren't for you she wouldn't have been in danger in the first place!" he snapped.

"If you truly believe that then you're not nearly as clued in as I thought you were," Fenrik mocked immediately, his eyes as burning.

Blake growled, his fist itching to swing at him again. "You tried to kill her!"

Fenrik began to laugh, a low dangerous sound. "Kill? No, I played no part in that. Why would I? I was paid to bring her back alive." He spat a mixture of blood and saliva onto the hard floor.

"You're lying." Blake reached behind him for the silver knife once again.

"I'm not!" Fenrik snarled. "I told you, I had nothing to do with any assassination. I don't work for Elron or his fanatics and I don't deal with leeches either. I keep my men well clear as well. It's bad for business."

The wolves in the room froze and looked at each other in consternation.

Fenrik's eyes flicked between them, then he smiled again, slowly letting himself relax into the chair. "Well, well. Would you look at that? I've told you something you didn't already know." He flexed his long fingers, making the chains around his wrists rattle. "The mighty Hunter brother's and all the resources that are available to them... and you haven't even figured out who, or should I say, what the master pulling the puppets strings is."

"So enlighten us," Blake said through gritted teeth, his breathing as slow and steady as he could make it.

It couldn't be...

Fenrik leaned forward as far as his chains would allow him and looked Asher dead in the eye. "Vampire," he hissed, venom dripping from each syllable. "So, tell me oh-mighty-truth-finder, am I lying?"

Ash looked at him carefully a moment, then turned to the others with a look of consternation on his face. "He's not," he said grimly. "At least, he believes it's true."

Blake snarled in response. "Impossible."

Fenrik smiled maliciously at Blake, the blood dripping down his cheek emphasising the darkness in his eyes. "Irrefutable," he countered.

The silence stretched to painful levels as they absorbed Fenrik's bombshell.

"I never touched your little Luna, you know," he remarked casually, breaking the stillness and testing the final edge of Blake's patience. "She was a feisty little thing, all long legs and fiery hair. Couldn't help but wonder what it would feel like between her thighs."

Blake turned and leapt towards the rogue, his eyes were black as coal, Rothan fully in control - if he'd reached the laughing prisoner, nothing would have prevented him from ripping out his throat, even without Rothan straining to help - but Asher got there first and wrapped his hand around the mercenaries thick neck, even as Marcus and Alex fought to hold their Alpha back.

"Do you want to live, rogue?" hissed Asher in Fenrik's ear, slowly choking him. Fenrik nodded, his eyes watering as he struggled for breath. "Then I suggest you adopt a policy of only speaking when spoken to from now on." He let go and Fenrik took a deep wrenching breath, a livid bruise forming where Asher had squeezed. "...and she's not the Luna." he corrected absentmindedly.

"Really?" Fenrik mocked, risking certain death as he watched the two lieutenants still struggling with the furious Alpha, " You could have fooled me."

Asher shot him a warning look, flexing his claws but watched his brother struggle against his wolf with a speculative expression on his face. With one carefully calculated insult, Fenrik had deduced the one subject capable of breaking his brother's famous control. Even Marcus and Alex looked a little wild eyed at their Alpha's sudden bloodthirsty impulsiveness.

"I never touched her." Fenrik repeated again, all trace of bravado gone. "And I made damn sure my men kept their hands to themselves as well."

Blake glared at him, his black eyes shining and his breathing harsh, but he wrestled some semblance of control back from Rothan and stopped struggling against his men.

"She wasn't badly treated. Bit scared, sure but - " Fenrik shrugged one of his filthy shoulders " - that couldn't be helped. Bring her back alive he said, and untouched. Couldn't figure out why he wanted her so badly at first... then I met her."

Blake retrieved the knife from the table, his eyes as hard as agates.

"I'll tell you everything you want to know," Fenrik bargained. "For a price, of course."

"What makes you think there's room for negotiation?" snarled Blake, once again pressing the knife against Fenrik's exposed jugular.

"There's always room for negotiation," Fenrik countered, ignoring the blade at his throat. "I thought you were supposed to be the intelligent one? Wait! Sorry, I got that wrong didn't I?" he rolled his eyes over towards Asher, "Your brother is the intelligent one... you're supposed to be the patient one." He flicked his shining eyes down towards the sharp knife cutting into his skin. "Not that there's much evidence of that either, right now."

Blake snarled again, his wolf screaming inside him to be let loose.

Asher placed a restraining hand on his brother's shoulder. "He's right, he's more use to us alive," he said regretfully. "I'm willing to bet he's gathered up a plethora of useful information for just such an occasion as this."

Fenrik gave Blake an evil grin as the struggling Alpha eased the knife off his throat and took a deep calming breath. What the hell was wrong with him? He never lost control like this.

Fenrik held up his hands, best he could in a gesture of passivity. "Like I said before, she had a fiery spirit. Had my men running around in circles and gave as good as she got," he reflected. "I actually kind of liked her, few conversations we had - a lot more than the bastard who hired me, that's for sure. Personally, I'd have let her go." He shrugged. "But, business is business and my men don't work for free. They expected to get paid."

"No need to pay them now," Alex murmured viciously.

"No." Fenrik expressed a moment of irritation. "I don't suppose you left any alive did you?"

Alex shrugged. "A few might have made it through the tunnels. He scratched the side of his nose. Those things go on for miles..."

"What about the women?" Fenrik asked.

"I didn't see any among the dead," Blake said shortly.

"There was one," Alex admitted.

Fenriks face twisted into a scowl. "I thought females were off the victim list in your pack?"

"It wasn't one of our warriors," Alex reassured his Alpha swiftly when Blake glared at him. "I think she got caught under the arch collapse."

"Who's the vampire?" Blake asked through gritted teeth, steering the interrogation towards a safer path as he struggled to calm down. "No more games."

"No idea," Fenrik shrugged. "I just know that he is. I keep well clear of those shadows, they're rumoured to be bad for your health."

"I don't suppose you'd like to tell us the name of the Alpha that turned you rogue would you?" Marcus snarled. "I'd love a chance to personally thank him for landing us with you."

"Fenrik wasn't made by any form of banishment," Asher laughed softly. " He was born... like Meagan."

"The bastard of Elmwood," Fenrik muttered, his lip curling in disgust. "A slimy, snivelling, entitled little shit. He's something of a legend amongst the rogues."

"My father once told me that if I ever encountered a born rogue, I should kill it on sight," Blake murmured his eyes full of malice. "Funny, I now find myself face to face with two of them."

"Your father sounds delightful," Fenrik said, his voice laden with sarcasm.

How do you know Meagan?" Asher interjected before Blake could punch their prisoner again.