Aidi woke up to the dull ache of her muscles, the burning reminder of the shock still pulsing through her veins. She wasn't sure how long she had been unconscious, but the weight of exhaustion was heavy in her body. Every movement felt like it took every ounce of her will, her muscles protesting with each attempt.
The room was still the same. Cold, dark, and suffocating. But the silence had taken on a different quality now—oppressive and unnerving. Her breath was slow, shallow, as she tried to gather herself, the fog of the drug still clouding her thoughts. She had been through worse, hadn't she? She had to be stronger than this. Her hands clenched into fists, the chains scraping against her skin as she shifted in the chair, testing the limits of her restraints once more.
No use. The chains were too tight.
The door creaked open again, and the familiar sound of heavy boots echoed across the room. Aidi's head snapped toward the entrance, her body tensing instinctively. Hetri entered, his dark figure filling the doorway. But today, he wasn't alone.
One of his men stood behind him, a tall, broad-shouldered figure who wore the same smirk of superiority as the others. Hetri's eyes were cold as ever, but there was something different about the way he looked at her now—something almost calculating. Like a predator trying to figure out the perfect moment to strike.
"Still awake?" Hetri's voice was low, his gaze unwavering. He took a slow step toward her, studying her as though he was looking at an animal trapped in a cage.
Aidi remained silent, her gaze fixed on him, but she said nothing. He had pushed her further than she ever thought she could be pushed, but she would not break. Not yet.
He stopped in front of her, his face inches from hers. His eyes flickered to her lips, which still bore the faint imprint of the shock device from before. Aidi could feel his gaze like a weight, and it made her stomach turn.
"You know," Hetri began, voice almost casual, "I'm beginning to think you're not as smart as I thought. I offered you an easy way out, you know. But you're stubborn. You could have made this all stop by now."
Aidi lifted her chin, looking him straight in the eyes. "And what's your idea of 'easy'?" she asked, her voice hoarse but firm. "Begging for mercy? Begging for your forgiveness? I'll never do that."
A strange, almost amused smile tugged at Hetri's lips. "No, you won't. But there's more than one way to make someone beg, Aidi. I could break you down, piece by piece, make you so desperate for relief that you'll ask for it without thinking. It's just a matter of time."
Aidi swallowed hard, the weight of his words sinking in. He was right about one thing: She had to be careful. The longer she resisted, the more creative he would get with his methods. He wouldn't stop. Not until she was a hollow shell of who she used to be.
But that wasn't going to happen.
"You'll never win," she said, her voice steady now. "You think you can break me, but you're wrong. You can hurt me, you can lock me in this place, but you'll never win. Not as long as I'm still breathing."
Hetri studied her for a long moment, and for the first time, Aidi saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something like admiration. It disappeared quickly, replaced by the usual cold indifference. But for that fleeting instant, she had made an impact.
"You're stubborn," he said, shaking his head, but there was something else in his tone now. "You remind me of someone I used to know. Someone who thought they could never be broken. But they were wrong. And you will be, too."
Without another word, Hetri motioned for the guard to come forward. The tall man approached with a metal box in his hands, and Aidi's heart skipped a beat as she saw what it was: a set of tools. Scalpels, pliers, knives. It was the kind of thing you'd see in a torture chamber.
"Don't do this," Aidi whispered, her voice barely audible. She wasn't sure whether she was speaking to Hetri or to herself, but she needed to hold on. She had to hold on.
Hetri tilted his head, his expression unreadable. "I don't want to do this either, Aidi. But you're not leaving me much choice." He turned to the guard and nodded. The man stepped forward, pulling a sharp knife from the box.
Aidi's breath caught in her throat, her body frozen in terror. But she refused to show it. She wouldn't let them see her fear. She had to stay strong. Even if they were going to break her, she wouldn't let them break her spirit.
The guard held the knife in front of her face, the sharp blade gleaming in the dim light. "This is for your own good," the man muttered, as though convincing himself more than her.
Aidi's mind raced, but in that moment, something shifted. She had been broken before, but she wouldn't let them break her again. Not like this.
"Stop," she said, her voice steady despite the fear gripping her. "You can't force me to submit. I'm not going to beg you."
Hetri stood back and watched her carefully, his cold eyes studying her every move. His lips twitched, as though he was thinking about something. Finally, he gave a sharp nod.
"Maybe I don't need to break you all at once," he murmured, almost thoughtfully. "Maybe I'll start small. A little pain here, a little discomfort there. Let's see how long you last."
Aidi clenched her fists, her jaw tightening. "I'm not afraid of you."
Hetri grinned, his eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "We'll see."
With that, the guard stepped forward, and Aidi braced herself for what was to come. But through it all, she held onto one thing—one piece of hope.
She wouldn't break. Not yet.