Chapter 4
Footsteps echo through the empty hall as the two men towering over Liz lead her to a new room. She looks around, taking in as many details as she can. All she sees is the white walls of the small, narrow hall made bright by the harsh fluorescent lights. There is no sign of life anywhere.
Liz looks up, spotting the security cameras tracking her as they walk by. She reaches down, pulling at her tattered shirt, a sad attempt to save some of her dignity.
The two men glance at each other, sneering when they realize what she’s trying to do. They slow to a stop in front of a set of doors, opening the one closest to them, and commanding her to go in.
She’s frozen in fear, unable to step back into another small, locked room.
One of the men shoves her, sending her stumbling forward.
Once inside, she looks around, noting the small metal table with what looks like a metal handle jutting up from the middle and three chairs.
Two of the three walls are bare, nothing on them but damage and rusted stains.
The third wall is in better shape, holding a giant mirror.
There is a small security camera in the corner next to the door, aimed right at the table in the middle of the room.
It looks like a room straight out of a bad cop show.
One of the men instructs her to sit. She drags her aching bare feet across the cold floor, forcing herself forward. She gets to the table and gently sits, the cold metal biting into her, causing the bruises across her body to ache.
“Hands,” one of the men snaps.
She gingerly lifts up her arms and sets her hands on the cool metal table.
Tears well in her eyes. She has no fight left, even if she did, she is wildly out numbered.
The other man wastes no time running a new set of handcuffs through the handle attached to the table.
He roughly slaps the cuffs around her arms, leaving her confined to her seat.
The first man leans over and whispers to the other before he leaves the room, slamming the door behind him.
“Stay quiet, someone will be in to deal with you soon,” the man still in the room says before letting himself out.
Liz forces herself to take a shuddering breath.
Two sharp breaths in, almost as if she had been crying and struggling to breathe, followed by a slow exhale.
She read somewhere that doing this tricks the body into calming.
She repeats this two more times. Her mind may still be racing, but her heart no longer feels as if it's going to explode.
She drags her eyes to the mirror facing her, not recognizing the person looking back.
She has never seen herself look worse. Her long, black hair is nothing but tangles, grime, and dried blood.
Once vibrant, green eyes are dull and full of despair where they sit above sunken cheeks.
Cuts and bruises cover what she can see of her body.
She has two a black eyes and a split lip.
She can’t tell if the injuries are from her fight with the masked man or from the daily encounters with her previous captors.
“Just fucking kill me,” she says, putting her head on the table so she doesn’t have to see her reflection anymore.
She has no idea how much time has passed when the door opens and a man and the woman from the other room walk in.
She scans them over, trying to figure out who these people are.
She guesses the man is in his late fifties, wearing an army green coat covered in different colored badges.
The woman is about ten years younger, still looking out of place.
She is too put together to be in the dingy room.
“Welcome to Fort Stryker,” the man says, pulling out a chair and sitting down. The woman doesn’t say anything, just slides into the seat next to him, a look of disappointment on her face. “We have a few questions for you about Dmitri and his operation.”
The man folds his hands and puts them on the table, eyeing Liz like he couldn’t believe the sickly woman in front of him was the one who stabbed a man twice her size.
Liz gives him nothing, just stares at the metal table, counting all the dents and scratches marring the surface. She wonders how many others like her have been held here, questioned and tortured even though they had no information to give. Her guess is too many.
“My name is Paula, we just have some questions for you. I will try to make this fast so we can get you some food, okay?” Paula says in a quiet gentle tone, not trying to startle Liz further.
“Before you start getting special treatment, why don’t you tell us who the hell you are,” the man says. Paula's lips purse, she looks as if she wants to reprimand him, but never does.
Liz drags her eyes up to meet the mans, seeing the determination in his eyes she quickly looks away.
. Her body relaxes slightly. Unsure if it’s the medicine kicking in or if she just knows it doesn’t matter if she cooperates or not.
She lets out a sigh, already knowing the outcome of the interrogation.
Maybe this time they will kill her quickly instead of making her suffer.
Liz focuses on her hands, twisting the small length of chain nervously, the soft clanging filling the silence.
“No,” Liz says to them, steeling herself before continuing.
She slowly drags her eyes back up to his.
“Assholes like you don’t care about my name, just what you think you can take from me.
It’s only a matter of time before you kill me, so why ask?
Just take me out of here and put a bullet in my head.
Save us all the trouble, because I’m not telling you shit,” she says, laying her head on the table, hoping it’s enough to make them leave.
“I will get the information out of you one way or another. You’re not leaving this fucking room until I get it,” he yells, slamming his hands on the table.
Liz startles, lifting her head back up to smirk at the man with the same attitude that got her beaten by her last captors.
She couldn't stop it if she tried. Liz has never been able to control the need to antagonize men who treat her with disrespect, even when it results in blood and broken bones. With that, he gets up and storms out of the room. She never thought it would be so easy to make him show his true colors, but it’s a relief.
“Scott!” Paula shouts, getting up to chase after him.
The door slowly closes. Liz only allows herself a moment before moving her head over to her chained hands and drying her eyes.
Time ticks by, only the sound of boots scuffing and murmurs outside the door to keep her company.
They must have guards stationed outside, and she’s sure there is someone on the other side of the mirror, getting some sick enjoyment out of seeing her in this state.
The door swings open and the man walks back in, taking his seat.
Liz looks around, no sign of Paula anywhere.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot. I apologize for my outburst,” he says. When Liz doesn’t try to speak or acknowledge he returned, he clears his throat and continues.
“My name is Scott. I’m a General in the U.S.
military, more importantly, I’m head of an elite special operations unit called Nemesis.
” He’s clearly trying to get some sort of reaction from Liz with his willingness to share information.
“We rescued you from the base of Dmitri Komarov, our current enemy number one,” he says to Liz, making sure to emphasize she was rescued.
She keeps her head down, determined to ignore the man in front of her. After the way he’s had her treated, she has no intention of allowing him to know anything she’s been through.
“I don’t know your role in all of this, but you have been in his compound for a while.
He has kept you alive for a reason. I know you have some information on the way he runs things,” he says before adding— “You also stabbed my best commander. I can have you locked away for the rest of your life, but if you tell me what—”
He was cut off by the door being thrown open with enough force to send it crashing against the wall.
The sound makes Liz jump, her eyes snapping to the entrance only to see the masked man from her last cell storm into the room.
Liz feels like the air is sucked out of her lungs, her blood running cold.
He doesn’t even glance at her, instead, he goes straight for the general.
“What the fuck are you doing with her?” he yells, and Liz swears she can feel the room shake.
The general is out of his seat in an instant, trying to go head-to-head with the masked man.
If the general thinks he can intimidate him, he’s an idiot.
The man is at least a foot taller with an aura of “fuck around and find out” about him.
Even with all the gear piled on his body, she can tell he is pure muscle, whereas the General looks like he hasn’t seen a gym in the better part of twenty years.
“Stand down, Riley, that’s an order,” the man yells up at him.
“She has information we need. If she was a prisoner why would she attack someone trying to save her? She’s working for him.
I will have her locked up for the rest of her life,” he says, trying to hide the tremble in his voice.
He glances to the door, hoping his guards will come in.
He may be the General, but Riley is clearly feared by everyone around.
“She was fucking scared!” he yells, stepping closer to the man cowering in front of him. “I made myself clear, she is mine to protect, no one was to speak to her without me. That order was for you too general.”