Page 45 of Nick
His lips twisted into a sadistic smile as he approached Sarah, his eyes glinting.
“Still holding on, are we, Sarah?”His voice echoed off the cave walls.“You know, your resilience is starting to get boring.It would be so much easier if you just gave in.”
Sarah’s eyes narrowed, even as fear clawed inside her.
She wanted to spit insults back at him, to tell him that he would never break her, but the gag turned her words into nothing more than muffled sounds.
Her silence seemed to amuse him further.
“Ah, what’s the matter?Cat got your tongue?”Vincent leaned in close enough for her to smell his fetid breath.“Or perhaps you’re finally realizing there’s no one coming for you.No knight in shining armor to save the damsel in distress.”
He reached out, tracing a finger down her cheek, where a deep bruise was blossoming.
Sarah flinched involuntarily but held his gaze.
She couldn’t speak, but her glare shouted louder than any words she could muster.She would not let this monster see her fear.
Vincent’s smile faltered for a moment, replaced by a flash of irritation.He straightened up, stepping back from Sarah with a sneer.
“Your time is running out, sweetheart,” he said, menace threading through his voice.“Sooner or later, you’ll wish you had given up the information when you had the chance.”
As if she would ever name other pack members when Vincent demanded to know who’d been conspiring against him.
Turning on his heel, Vincent left the room, the door slamming shut behind him with a resounding thud.
Sarah sagged against her restraints, allowing herself a moment to feel her situation.
But only a moment.
She would endure, she would escape, and she would have her vengeance.For now, she clung to the hatred that seared through her veins like a lifeline, fueling her will to fight another day.
The door creaked open again, admitting a fresh wave of dread along with Gregory Torrance, Vincent’s right hand, who stepped into the dimly lit cave, his broad shoulders casting an ominous shadow across the dirt floor.
“Ready for another round?”Gregory’s voice was cold, almost clinical, as if he was discussing a routine task rather than the infliction of pain.Vincent followed him in.
As Vincent stood by, arms crossed and a smirk playing on his lips, Gregory unfurled a leather whip with a practiced flick of his wrist.The sound reverberated off the damp walls, a foreboding promise of agony to come.
With the first lash, pain exploded across Sarah’s back, white-hot and blinding.She bit down hard on the gag, refusing to give them the satisfaction of hearing her scream.
They alternated between whip and fire, the latter crackling from a handheld device that scorched her skin, leaving welts and burns that stung with every shallow breath she took.
The pain was relentless, an assault on her senses, testing the limits of her endurance.
As the torture intensified, Sarah’s mind raced alongside her pounding heartbeat.She forced herself to focus beyond the pain, to observe her captors for any sign of weakness.
Vincent’s posture was relaxed, the alpha too sure of his control over the situation.Gregory, engrossed in his work, failed to notice anything beyond the pain he inflicted.They were overconfident, and Sarah clung to that knowledge—a potential chink in their armor.
Her gaze darted around the room, taking in the wooden beams, the placement of the door, the tools of torment neatly arranged on a rusted table nearby.
There must be something, some oversight they had made, something she could use to her advantage.Her gaze landed on the shackles binding her wrists, the metal worn and old.If she could just…
“Look at her,” Vincent said, breaking into her thoughts with a taunting laugh.“Still holding on to hope.It’s pathetic.”
Gregory chuckled darkly, pausing to wipe the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand.“Stubbornness can be quite entertaining.”
Sarah’s jaw clenched tighter.
And as the two men continued their monstrous game, Sarah silently vowed to turn their entertainment into their undoing.
