Page 31 of Serpent King's Revenge

I straightened my back and kept staring. No…I wasn’t going to play along. Fuck her.

"Guess that answers my question then," Hayes said, standing up with a sigh. She stepped around the table and moved closer to me. I tensed, trying to jerk away as she reached for my cuffs, but the shackles held me firm to the chair.

"What are you—"

Her hands were deft, the cuffs clicking open, releasing my wrists from their iron grip. I frowned. This had to be a trick. But all she did was flash me that cold smile of hers and walk out, her heels clicking against the floor like a ticking clock.

I didn't move. I knew better than to think this was over. The camera was still off. Something was coming; I could feel it in my bones.

Minutes ticked by, slow and heavy. Finally, I raised my hands, flexing my fingers. They felt foreign, like they belonged to someone else after so long in those cuffs. My heart pounded away, a drumbeat of anticipation. Or maybe fear. Hard to tell the difference these days.

The door handle turned, and three officers came in. No words, just boots on concrete and the rustle of fabric. Their faces were blank slates, but their eyes…their eyes gave them away. They were here for something, and I was pretty sure it wasn't to wish me a good morning.

"Officers," I greeted them, my voice steady even as my mind raced. They just stood there, watching me with hawk-like intensity. I sat still, waiting for their move, because I knew one wrong twitch could turn this room into a cage fight—and I was already at a disadvantage.

The silence stretched, turning the room into a powder keg. I looked each of them in the eye, trying to figure out their play. The bulky one on the left had a twitch in his jaw; he was ready to jump. The tall one, standing slightly behind, kept shifting his weight from foot to foot—anxious, maybe? The third guy, he was the one to watch, eyes cold and calculating.

My gut tightened as the camera light flickered back to life with a soft click.

Fuck.

This was a setup.

"Shit, he slipped his cuffs! Neutralize him!" The words echoed off the walls, and my blood ran cold.

They were on me in a flash, batons drawn. There was no time to think, only react. I pushed myself up, my legs restricted by the shackles, but my arms were free, and I wasn't going down without a fight.

The first swing came from the twitchy one, aiming for my head. I ducked, feeling the whoosh of air as the baton missed its mark. I shot out a hand, grabbing his wrist and twisting hard. He yelped, dropping his weapon as I kicked him in the knee. He crumpled to the ground, and I didn't wait to see if he'd get back up.

I pivoted, catching tall-guy's baton mid-swing with both hands. Yanking it from his grip, I swung it like a baseball bat into his ribs. The crack was satisfying, but there was no time to enjoy it.

Cold-eyes was smarter. He hung back, waiting for an opening. He found it when I stumbled, the shackles biting into my ankles. His baton came down fast, but I rolled away, the hit glancing off my shoulder instead of smashing into my skull.

"Come on," I panted, glaring at him. "You'll have to do better than that."

He lunged, baton arcing down in a vicious strike, but I was ready. I caught his wrist, twisting and turning his momentum against him. With a grunt, I pulled him forward, sending him face-first into the wall. His body slumped, knocked out cold.

I barely had time to catch my breath when the door burst open, more guards flooding in. There was no end to them, it seemed. No matter how many went down, more appeared. They came at me, a relentless tide of anger and muscle.

I fought with everything I had—punches, kicks, headbutts. The training my father drilled into me since I could walk paid off. Even shackled, I moved with purpose, striking hard and fast. Each hit I landed was one less baton to dodge, one less set of fists aiming for my gut.

But there were too many.

They kept coming, and I felt the strain in my muscles, the burn in my chest. I took hits, too, each one a heavy thud against my body, pain flashing bright and sharp.

Sweat dripped into my eyes, stinging, and I shook my head to clear my vision. The room spun a little, but I stayed on my feet, defiant. Every second I kept fighting was a second longer I stayed out of whatever hellhole they wanted to throw me into.

But I could only put off the inevitable for so long.

They swarmed me, a human avalanche, and I couldn't hold them back anymore. I went down hard, the cold floor pressing against my cheek. Arms grabbed mine, legs pinned mine, their weight crushing. A fist hammered into my side, another clipped my jaw. Pain exploded in my head, ringing in my ears.

"Get off him!" It was Hayes' voice, sharp as a knife's edge. I could barely see her through the blur of bodies, but I heard the confusion in the room. "What the hell happened?"

"He got loose and attacked us," someone said, breathless from the scuffle.

"Loose?" Hayes' voice was colder now, like ice cracking. "How did he get loose?"

Fuck me…fuck. She’d planned all of this, and now I was going to get sent away.

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