Therian stood with a roar that shook the walls. Even with the dragonsbane blocking his beast, power rippled off the blond shifterin waves.
The two remaining guards swung their attention to Therian and raised their guns, pointing them at his chest.
“Get down, or we’ll shoot,” the taller one yelled.
Instead of doing that—because that was a fucking one-way ticket to death—Therian charged the rebel.
At the same time, Ryker pushed himself to his feet, throwing himself at the other guard. He slammed into him, his shoulder screaming in pain as they collided. Together, they smashed into the concrete wall.
Absolute chaos descended upon the small cell.
The others stood and fought. Guards shouted. A gun fired. Someone screamed. Something wet splattered across Ryker’s bare arm. A grunt of pain came from behind him. Flesh smacked against flesh. A yell. A guttural scream. Another gunshot. A loudsnap.
Then, silence blanketed the space so quickly that the quiet came as a shock.
Ryker’s breath came in short bursts.
A grunt came from behind him. He tensed, balling his fists, when the rope binding his hands tightened.
“It’s me,” Therian said, having removed his gag, as he snapped the rope binding Ryker’s hands. “Help me with the others.”
Ryker’s arms throbbed. With the prohiberis blocking his magic, he couldn’t heal, but at least he could move.
Searing pain ran through his right shoulder as he attempted to shift his arm, and tears rushed to his eyes.
Turning, Ryker ignored his pain and untied Oliver. The witch thanked him with a grunt and went to help one of the others. When Oliver moved, Ryker got a good look at the guard Therian had rushed at.
The rebel was lying on the floor, a massive hole where his chest cavity used to be. Gods damn. There would be no coming back from that, even for a Mature being.
At least that accounted for the blood that had landed on Ryker’s arm.
The other rebel was a few feet away, still hanging onto life. Jacques,the other vampire participant, had his knee pressed against the guard’s neck, even though his own hands were still bound.
Ryker and Therian freed all the men from their rope bindings. They were unable to remove the prohiberis since the manacles required keys. They searched the guards for the keys but didn’t find them.
Their injuries were numerous. Many of them had fought back when they were captured, and they were all bloody and bruised. In addition to Ryker’s shoulder, three others had dislocated or broken arms. No one’s legs were broken, though, which would make escaping easier.
A quick conversation confirmed they’d all been drugged, all their phones were missing, and no one knew where they were. The men stood, some in worse shape than others, and stared at the door.
“What now?” Philippe asked, wiping a hand across his bloody brow.
Ryker crouched in front of the unconscious guard. “Now we talk to our new friend and find out how to get out of here.”
“Good plan.” Therian knelt beside Ryker and gestured for Jacques to get off the rebel.
Once the vampire had moved, Therian slapped their prisoner.
The fae woke with a start. He snarled, but the sound quickly disappeared as he took in the situation.
“Fuck,” the rebel breathed.
Ryker glared at the fae. “Where are we?”
The rebel clamped his mouth shut.
Of course, this wouldn’t be a simple interrogation. Ryker rubbed his good hand over his face.
“Look. This has been an incredibly long night, and none of us want to hurt you.” Growls rose from some of the others, disproving his point. “Just tell us.”