Dragonfury 02 - Fury of Ice

light glinting off the steel walls of the prison cell.
    “I wouldn’t advise it, Forge.” B’s hand stilled on the back of Rikar’s head. A heartbeat passed before his best friend glanced up, nailing the rogue with a glare. “Stay put. Or I’ll blow the collar and your head off.”
    The threat stopped Forge cold. Upper lip curled off his teeth, he paced away, putting the width of the room between them.
    “Ven?” Soft and low, Bastian’s tone said it all. He wanted backup, was through with the bullshit.
    “Here.” Like a giant watchdog, Venom moved into view, ready to help: to hurt, to give whatever B needed.
    Wrung out, still belly-down on the floor, Rikar huffed, grateful for his buddy. Despite their commander’s wishes, Venom had stepped off and stayed out of the way, giving him a shot at the Razorback. Now, the male would catch hell…be on B’s shit list for a while. And man, how upstanding was that? Very. Big in a way Rikar appreciated. So, yeah. Venom would be getting his fair share of “you’re the best, buddy” from here on out.
    With a gentle squeeze, Bastian let him go and pushed to his feet. “Get our boy out of here, Ven.”
    The command made Rikar cringe. Terrific. He’d just had his wings clipped.
    Not that he blamed Bastian. His behavior didn’t warrant inclusion, and his commander had every right to be pissed off. As executive officer of the Nightfuries, B expected more from him. Control was valued by their pack; the lack of which couldn’t be overlooked. He’d crossed the line. Defied a direct order with deliberate intent when he attacked Forge, but…hell. He’d hoped for more on the back end: information mixed with a mitt full of satisfaction.
    Now he had less than nothing.
    Rikar shook his head. Stupid. He was an idiot, plain and simple. One that deserved exactly what B was giving him…exile from the interrogation center.
    Pushing himself upright, he settled into a crouch and tossed a Hail Mary pass in a losing game. No way Bastian would change his mind, but he tried anyway. “I’m good, B…in control. Just give me another—”
    “I dinnae know where they took her.” The thick brogue rolled, Forge’s quiet tone moving like a steamroller through the room.
    Rikar wasn’t immune. The admission flattened him, along with his fellow warriors. The proof? Bastian stood unmoving, his gaze locked on Forge, astonishment on his face. Shitkickers rooted to the floor, Venom didn’t look much better. And him? His jaw had come unhinged, hanging open like a freaking Venus flytrap.
    And still, they stood there, frozen in time. Silence rising to meet their incredulity.
    Twitching under the scrutiny, Forge stared at the floor. “If I knew…I would tell you.”
    Rikar shook his head, trying to wrap his brain around that one. Christ. What the hell did he mean? Forge was a Razorback. How could he not know where he lived…where Ivar and the others slept every day and flew away from each night?
    It defied reason.
    Which naturally set off every internal alarm he owned.
    As the thing got busy shrieking, his eyes narrowed. A deflection. The rogue was playing them, tossing out tidbits like chum into shark-infested waters. Excellent strategy. Stellar, really. Especially since Rikar’s bite had always been bigger than his bark.

     
    Forge kept his head down and his senses sharp, waiting for Frosty to come at him from across the room. The pale-eyed male was on edge, ready to attack without provocation or warning. Any other time, he would’ve been on board with the plan. Relished the challenge. Enjoyed the fight. Given as good as he got.
    But not today.
    He understood the Nightfury’s pain: could see the devastation, felt it as keenly as he did his own. That kind of anguish ate at a male and didn’t go away. Ever.
    Which was the reason he’d opened his flippin’ mouth.
    Big mistake. Frosty wouldn’t give him any brownie points for honesty. Neither would Bastian. Hope, though—nasty beast that it was—sprang eternal. It whispered in his ear, made him believe volunteering a little information would create goodwill. Get him what he needed while setting the Nightfuries back a step.
    Wishful thinking? Probably.
    But what other choice did he have? The bastards had his newborn son.
    So, what did that make him? A first class fool? A real dumb-dumb imprisoned in, well…shite. He didn’t know where they’d brought him. After getting zapped with electricity in the shipyard, he’d been