Heartman paced back and forth, his frustration growing with each passing moment. The guards, captive and bound, sat stoically in the dimly lit room. It had been hours since they had been apprehended, but they refused to divulge any information about the whereabouts of their captive, the former Luna of the Crystal Moon pack. Heartman knew time was running out, and he had to find her before it was too late.
"Damn it!" Heartman exclaimed, clenching his fists in frustration. "We need to find out where she's being held, but these guards won't crack."
The room fell into an uneasy silence as the others watched Heartman with concern. They knew how important the Luna was to him; losing a mate isn't something very easy, especially when he had left so he could come back for her, returning to no information on her whereabouts. They had to find her and bring her back safely.
Heartman took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing thoughts. His eyes scanned the room, searching for something, anything, that could help them break through the guards' silent defiance. Then an idea struck him, and he turned to face the others.
"Everyone, look around for something in this room that we can use as a tool," Heartman commanded. "We need to find something to hit these guards with, to make them talk."
The warriors and their leader, driven by their determination to save their Luna, began scouring the room, searching for any potential weapons. They rummaged through drawers, overturned the already destroyed furniture, and checked everywhere in the building. Finally, they each found something—a baton, a metal pipe, a broken chair leg.
With their makeshift weapons in hand, they approached the bound guards, their faces set with grim determination. Heartman stood in front of the first guard, his voice dripping with intensity.
"You will tell us where your people hide her or we'll try ourselves," he said, brandishing his weapon threateningly. "You will talk, or you will face the consequences."
The guards, though visibly shaken, remained resolute. They stared back at Heartman and the others, defiance gleaming in their eyes. They had been trained to endure pain, to protect their secrets at all costs. This one isn't different; they had to endure all pain to keep the secret safe.
Heartman's frustration boiled over, and he swung his weapon, striking the guard across the shoulder. The room echoed with the sound of impact, but the guard didn't flinch. The others followed suit, each landing a blow on their respective captive, but still, the two guards remained silent.
The warriors paused, their hearts sinking. Their hopes of extracting information through force were dashed against the unyielding resolve of the guards. The situation seemed dire, and time continued to slip away.
Heartman, his knuckles white from gripping the weapon, took a step back. He looked around the room. In that moment, a spark of inspiration ignited within him.
"Stop," Heartman called out, his voice commanding attention. "We're approaching this the wrong way. We need to think like warriors, not like captors."
The warriors turned to him, confusion etched on their faces. Heartman approached the bound guards again, this time with a gentler resolve. He knelt down in front of the first guard, meeting his unwavering gaze.
"We're not here to harm you," Heartman said, his voice filled with empathy. "We're here to save our Luna, my wife, just as you swore to your leader to protect every secret about her. Please, we need your help."
The room fell into a pregnant silence. The guards glanced at each other, uncertainty flickering in their eyes. Heartman's words resonated with their sense of duty, but they knew better than to disclose any information about her whereabouts, as their deaths would be worse if they were discovered.