Survival 5

The group looked at him, confused and hesitant. 

"What's going on?" Marie asked softly, her arms wrapping tightly around herself.

"Just do what I told you. Stand up and line up," he ordered again. 

They nodded reluctantly and did what he asked, forming a line along the container wall. 

"Now strip," 

"Excuse me?" One of them reacted against it. 

"I'm not joking," Zayn said, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the group.

"I think one of us here is a spy, and I'm damn sure it's not me." 

The group look uneasy by his accusation.

Some folded their arms across their chests, while others shifted uncomfortably. 

"This is insane," one woman muttered. "You can't just—" 

"Listen," he interrupted firmly, holding up a hand to silence everyone. 

"I get it—this isn't easy for anyone. But if they're tracking us somehow, finding out how could be our only shot at getting out of here. Shame won't kill us, but starvation will. We need to act, and we need to act now."

Marie glanced around nervously, exhaling in resignation.

"Fine… Let's just… do it." Her willingness set the course. 

One by one, they reluctantly remove their clothing.

Layers fell down, leaving their bodies exposed—bare chests, scarred skin, and their vulnerable side. 

Even their most private areas were revealed, a testament to how desperate their situation was. 

He examined each of them, searching for anything that could be a hidden device—a camera, a transmitter, anything unusual. 

The group stood silent, their eyes darting to one another. Shame and fear were etched into their faces, though no one dared speak out. 

As he moved between them, he muttered instructions.

"Turn around. Lift your arms. Show me your hands... Spread your legs." 

He scrutinized every inch of their bodies, his mind racing to spot anything that might confirm his suspicion. 

But there was nothing.

No wires, no tiny cameras, no signs of tampering. Just ordinary people, malnourished and beaten down by the ordeal. 

Marie's voice broke the silence.

"Satisfied, detective? Or do you need to put your fingers inside me to check?" 

Zayn's eyes turned to hers, shame flashing briefly across his face before hardening again. "I had to be sure," 

"You found nothing," she shot back, grabbing her clothes and pulling them on hurriedly. "You're making us all suffer for your paranoia." 

He could only endure her insults—he deserved them. But then, something else pulled his focus: a faint glint on her wrist.

Without a word, he moved toward her. 

"Hey! What are you—" she started, but her words were cut off as he grabbed her wrist. 

"What's this?" he demanded, pointing at the wound on her skin. 

Marie frowned, yanking her arm back instinctively. "It's just a wound! What's your problem now?"

"Stop lying," he clutched her hand again.

His heart pounded as his fingers traced an object beneath the surface. 

"You..." he gritted his teeth in anger. 

Her face darkened, and she crossed her arms defiantly to protect herself. 

"No! It's not what you think!" she pleaded, her voice cracking as she scrambled to explain herself.

"You're the rat...," he growled, raising the metal rod threateningly. 

Marie flinched, taking a step back. "Please, stop! I'm innocent—"

Before she could finish, the container door burst open with a deafening clang, flooding the dim space with blinding light.

"GET DOWN!" a voice roared. 

Zayn barely had time to react before armed personnel struck him across the head with the butt of a rifle.

His vision blurred, the shouts around him added to his disorientation. 

"Stay down!" another voice barked, cold and commanding. 

Zayn groaned, his body trembling as he fought to lift his head. A stream of blood poured from a cut near his temple, staining the floor below him.

He tried to focus, to make sense of what was happening, but his thoughts were sluggish. 

A man in a black uniform stepped forward, towering over him. His face was hidden behind a mask, and his voice was filled with authority. 

"You're causing quite the ruckus, aren't you? You should have just played the game normally" 

With great effort, Zayn managed to lift his head.

"Fuck you," He spat directly in the man's face.

The man's expression didn't change, but his eyes darkened. He wiped the spit from his cheek.

Then, with a snarl, he grabbed Zayn by the hair, jerking his head back sharply before throwing a punch to his already bleeding face.

The attack landed with a sickening crack, snapping Zayn's head back violently.

But the man didn't stop there. His fists kept falling, one after another.

Finally, the last punch landed, and everything went black, the sharp taste of iron lingering in Zayn's mouth before his consciousness completely slipped away

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Authors Note:

What you've read so far is just the tip of the iceberg.

If you think the main character is too much, then this novel might not be your cup of tea.

But if you want to read about a badass MC—someone who does whatever it takes to survive, not like those half-assed villains who just become cruel and cunning when it suits them—this novel is made for you.