Drake POV
Two hours after leaving the area where Layla’s and Isaiah’s scents seemed to have mysteriously disappeared, Drake was leaning against the wall in Howling Moon’s dungeons, trembling with anger as he watched the bedraggled rogue that lay on the floor of one of the cells, where Drake had thrown him with such force it had knocked him out, blood trickling down the side of his head.
The only reason he regretted being so harsh with the younger guy was because, after thirty minutes of restless waiting on his part, the fucker still hadn’t awoken, and he couldn’t question him until he did. He was still furious that this little punk was the only one they’d managed to capture, and it wasn’t likely he was high enough in rank to know much information.
They’d caught up with the group too cl
