Page 2 of Promises in the Dark

“Go fuck yourself,” I snarled back.

He stepped back, shaking his head like I was a goddamn disappointment. “So much potential, but you’re too stubborn.”

He motioned to the others, and they grabbed me, shoving me hard onto the floor. The head fucker walked up, his face just inches from mine, and hissed, “There’s other ways to break you, soldier.”

“Bring it, asshole,” I spat, fury burning in my gut.

He raised an eyebrow like he was actually considering my challenge. “Brave, but stupid,” he said softly, turning to the others. “You’re just another cog in the machine. Replaceable. Nothing.”

I didn’t waste my breath responding. Just stared at him, silent, watching his every move.

“What were you doing at the warehouse last night?” he demanded.

I held his gaze. “Working,” I growled.

He studied me for a moment, eyes cold as ice. “Working?” His voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Yeah. Fucking working.”

He knocked the wind out of me, the hit sending me crashing onto the floor like a rag doll. Before I could react, another punch landed, harder this time. Blood filled my mouth, and I fought to stay conscious.

“I can do this all day,” the prick sneered, his voice oozing cruelty.

Every blow was like a damn wrecking ball to my face, pain blinding me with each hit. I was fighting to stay awake, but fuck me, the pain was overwhelming.

He kept punching, frustration bleeding through with every strike. “What were you doing there?” he snarled.

I gritted my teeth, pain ripping through my body. “Why don’t you go to hell?”

His face twisted in rage, eyes glowing with fury. “Then it’s time for you to pay, soldier.”

One of the other fuckers stepped up and kicked me hard in the ribs. I gasped, the pain shooting through me like a goddamn lightning bolt. I curled up, trying to protect myself as they took turns beating the living shit out of me.

Finally, one of the ropes snapped, and I felt my hands come free. But before I could do a damn thing, the head bastard grabbed me by the hair, yanked me to my feet, and slammed me against the wall.

“Now, talk.”

I coughed, blood dripping from my lips. “That is all you got?”

His grip tightened, choking me out again. My vision started to blur, but I didn’t give him the satisfaction of begging for mercy. The fucker grinned like a madman, his breath hot and foul as he leaned in close.

“We’re just getting started, friend.”

His grip tightened around my throat like a vice, fingers digging in with a sick kind of pleasure. It took every ounce of my willpower not to scream, not to beg for mercy. I knew that’s what the twisted bastard wanted—the fear, the submission—but fuck him.

I thrashed, trying to break free, but his hands were like iron chains. I couldn’t budge an inch. The harder I fought, the tighterhis grip got, choking the life out of me. I gasped, desperate for air. Slowly, my vision cleared, and I glared up at the sick fuck, defiance burning in my eyes.

“That the best you got, you sick fuck?” I rasped, voice cracking from the pressure on my throat.

The bastard grinned down at me, those dead, soulless eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure.

“Oh no,” he giggled like some demented freak. “This is just the beginning.” His voice was like nails on a chalkboard, making my skin crawl.

I tried to speak, but all that came out was a weak whimper. My lungs screamed for air, my ribs on fire, each breath a losing battle. His grip seared into my neck, my nerves lighting up like a bonfire.

Pain was everything—blinding, crushing, consuming. But fear? Fuck that. Fear was dead to me. Death didn’t scare me anymore; it was a release I’d been craving for far too long. It was like the calm after a storm, a final break from this endless shitshow of suffering. And right then, death felt close—too fucking close.

The world spun around me, my vision flickering in and out. I didn’t want to keep going, didn’t give a fuck about surviving. I just wanted it all to end. The darkness crept in, wrapping me up, suffocating my mind.

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