The room stank of mildew and rust. Water dripped in the corner, each drop echoing like a clock ticking down to something inevitable. The squad had been marched into the underground facility blindfolded, wrists zip-tied, boots dragging across uneven concrete. When the blindfolds were ripped off, the enemy didn't bother hiding the cameras bolted to the walls or the steel hooks dangling from chains.
Lucia stood in the center, hands bound behind her, posture as straight as if she were still in the briefing room. Orion was shoved down onto a chair beside her, his lip split, silver hair falling into his eyes. Ward and the others were forced to their knees along the far wall, guarded by two men with rifles slung casually over their shoulders.
The leader of the enemy detail stepped forward. His accent was thick, his fatigues stripped of insignia. "You came far to bleed on our soil," he said, voice low and deliberate. His eyes narrowed on Lucia. "Someone told us you were coming. Someone among you has already betrayed you. And someone among us did the same for you — gave you our location for God knows what. We want the name."
Lucia didn't blink. "There's no traitor."
The man's smile was humorless. "There is always a traitor. If you do not name one, you will all suffer until the truth comes out."
He gestured and two guards grabbed Lucia and Orion, dragging them to the center of the room. Their wrists were chained overhead, arms stretched until their shoulders strained. Ward lunged forward, only to be shoved back with the butt of a rifle.
"Lieutenant," the leader said, circling her like a shark. "A squad follows the strength of its leader. Let us see what your strength is worth."
The first blow came quick, a baton to her ribs. The crack echoed. Lucia's jaw clenched but her golden eyes stayed steady.
"Stop!" Orion barked, his voice raw. "You want answers, take them from me. I'll give you more entertainment."
The baton shifted, striking him across the face. His head snapped to the side, blood spraying the floor. He chuckled through a grimace. "See? I'm fun already."
Lucia's gaze flicked to him, sharp as a warning blade. "Shut up, Rossi."
But the enemy commander smiled. "Yes. Let's test both. Together."
The torture wasn't cinematic; it was systematic. No fire, no knives. These men wanted endurance to break long before flesh gave out.
The guards soaked cloth in cold water and wrapped it around their faces, forcing air into panic with every breath. Buckets of freezing water followed, poured over their heads until skin burned. The chains cut into their wrists as their bodies fought against drowning.
When the cloth was yanked away, Orion gasped like a man surfacing from the sea. He spat water and blood onto the concrete. "That all you've got? I had worse at boot camp showers."
Lucia coughed once, twice, then steadied her breath. Her voice was hoarse but level. "You're wasting your time."
The commander leaned close, his breath hot against her ear. "You waste lives. How many soldiers will die because of your pride?"
Lucia met his eyes, golden against steel. "As many as it takes to keep you from winning."
The baton slammed into her stomach. Pain lanced through her core but she didn't double over. She held her ground with a soldier's discipline.
"Resilient," the man mused. "But everyone breaks."
Hours bled together. They were forced to kneel until legs went numb, wrists still bound. Interrogators rotated, each with a new method. Floodlights blazed in their eyes, robbing them of time. Blasting static screamed from old speakers until conversation was impossible.
Ward tried once to speak, his voice cracked from thirst: "Lieutenant, let me—"
"Shut it, Ward," Orion cut in, sharp as a knife. "You keep your mouth closed unless she says otherwise."
Lucia said nothing but her glance at Orion lingered a beat too long, something unspoken between command and defiance.
Later, when the guards dragged the others away, leaving only Lucia and Orion chained in the dark, silence settled heavy.
Orion let out a shaky laugh, barely more than a breath. "So, this your idea of team bonding? 'Cause I've had better nights out."
Lucia's lips pressed thin but her voice carried a faint edge of dry steel. "You never know when to shut up, do you?"
"Not my style." He shifted against the chains, wincing. "Besides, silence gives them what they want. Noise pisses them off."
She studied him in the dim light. His face was battered but the grin clung stubbornly. "And when they realize noise doesn't break us?"
"Then they'll get creative," he muttered, tone dark but resolute. "Let 'em. I've been saving my best material for when they pull out the real party tricks."
Lucia almost smiled. Almost. "You think this is a game?"
"No," Orion said, his voice dropping low, serious now. "But if I can make you look less like a statue and more like someone human for five seconds… Well, that's a win in my book."
Her golden eyes lingered on him, unreadable, before turning away. The sound of boots echoed outside. The next round was coming.
They were beaten, shocked with live wires across their arms and shoulders, deprived of water until their throats cracked. Every time, the same demand: Who betrayed?
Every time, the same answer. Silence.
Lucia counted the strikes in her head, focusing on numbers, order, control. Orion filled the silence with biting remarks, even when blood choked his words.
When a guard sneered, "Your lieutenant will break before you," Orion laughed, red staining his teeth. "Not a chance. You boys don't know what kind of ice you're chipping at."
And when they turned to her, promising mercy if she spoke, she met them with the same calm steel: "Mercy isn't yours to give."
By the third day, both were shadows of themselves: chained, bruised, skin mottled with welts. But neither had cracked.
The commander's patience thinned. He slammed his hand on the table. "You protect ghosts! Someone betrayed us — tell me who!"
Lucia raised her head slowly, golden eyes burning despite her battered frame. "No one betrayed you but your own stupidity. You're just afraid we came without fear."
Orion coughed, then grinned through bloodied lips. "That's my lieutenant. Scares the hell out of them with words alone."
The commander's snarl was the last sound before the next strike fell.
In the end, they didn't break. Pain was the price of silence and silence was loyalty.
And somewhere in the darkness of Velmor's underground, their bond forged in chains and shadows grew sharper than any blade.