Chapter 4

After breaking down, Eliana sat in the main hall, her head hung low, arms resting limply on her knees. The weight of her situation crushed down on her chest, making it hard to breathe. There was nothing she could do now, no way out, but even so, she refused to obey those bastards. She was too prideful for that. Yet, they held the lives of her family—her mother, father, and older brother—like a blade at her throat.

"Fuck!" The curse tore from her throat, echoing through the hall, bouncing off the cold, lifeless walls. The anger burned inside her, a raging fire threatening to consume her entirely. She clenched her fists. She just needed to figure out who had taken her and why. Then, she would rip them apart slowly and painfully. But for now, it seemed she had to play along and endure this hellhole of an academy.

Her eyes fell to the crumpled schedule lying on the ground, the same one that had slipped from her hands when Cobra struck her earlier. She picked it up with trembling fingers and skimmed through the list. The first class: fitness.

Her stomach dropped. Of course, it had to be fitness. If there was one thing she truly despised, it was sports. She had always been the most unathletic person in the world, never bothering to exercise beyond the occasional walk to the fridge.

As if to mock her misery, her stomach growled loudly, reminding her of another problem—she was starving. She also needed to use the bathroom, but even basic bodily functions were controlled here. Bathroom breaks were scheduled, meals had fixed times, and she didn't even know where the damn toilets were. She cursed under her breath.

Grimacing, she pushed herself up, every muscle in her body protesting the movement. Yesterday's and today's beatings had left her battered. Her ribs ached, her arms felt like lead, and every step sent a dull throb of pain through her body. She followed the signs on the walls, dragging herself toward the designated room for fitness training.

Upon arrival, she found herself in a massive gym. The room was dimly lit, cold, and impersonal. The metallic smell of sweat mixed with something darker, something metallic—blood. There were only a handful of recruits present, all looking as miserable as she felt. It seemed the groups were separated, probably to make sure no one got too comfortable with anyone.

"You're late."

A deep voice murmured right next to her ear. Her entire body tensed, a shiver running down her spine. She startled, letting out a small yelp before she could stop herself. Before she could react further, a sudden blow landed in her gut.

Air. She needed air.

She doubled over, gasping. Why the hell was everyone here so obsessed with punching her?!

A menacing chuckle echoed above her. Gritting her teeth, she forced herself to straighten up, locking eyes with the tatted man in front of her. Damon. That was his name, right? He was the sadist in charge of this nightmare of a class.

"What the fuck is wrong with all of you? You fucking sadists!" she spat, voice hoarse from the pain.

Damon only smirked. "Discipline is important here. Be late? You get punished. Disobey? You get punished. Annoy me? Well..." His grin widened. "I'll punish you just for fun. But honestly, I hope you don't learn too fast. I like breaking in fresh meat."

Eliana felt a surge of rage rise in her chest, but she swallowed it down. Attacking him now would only give him another excuse to beat her to a pulp.

He grabbed her roughly by the arm and yanked her forward. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet. He led her to a treadmill and shoved her toward it.

"Get on. Now."

She frowned. "What?"

"You heard me. Get on, or you'll regret it."

For a moment, she considered resisting, but her aching body screamed at her to comply. With gritted teeth, she stepped onto the treadmill, expecting to at least set the speed herself.

Damon had other plans.

Before she could react, he cranked up the speed. The machine whirred violently, and the belt beneath her feet moved at a breakneck pace.

Her body jolted forward, her feet scrambling to keep up.

"What the fuck?! 20 km/h?! I can't run this fast!" she gasped, already feeling her lungs burning.

"You're doing it right now." Damon leaned lazily against another machine, arms crossed. "If you fall or stop, you start over. This goes on for three hours or until you pass out. If you stop before that, I'll punish you. And don't forget, we could kill your family anytime we want. Now, have fun."

A sickening grin spread across his face as he walked away, leaving her trapped in her own personal hell.

Around her, the gym was filled with the sounds of suffering. A recruit nearby was throwing up. Another was grunting in agony as he struggled to lift weights that were clearly too heavy for him. Ragged breaths and pained groans echoed through the vast space.

Eliana's legs screamed, but she kept running. Sweat dripped down her forehead, her clothes clinging uncomfortably to her body. Her lungs burned, her vision blurred at the edges, but she forced herself to push through.

Her fingers twitched toward the settings. Just a little slower, just a little—

A silver blur shot past her face.

Pain flared as something sharp grazed her cheek. A thin trail of blood trickled down her skin. Wide-eyed, she turned to see Damon twirling a blade between his fingers.

"Try that again, and the next one won't miss." His voice was almost bored, but his eyes glinted with a sadistic gleam.

Cold sweat ran down her spine. These people were truly insane. They could kill her at any moment, and no one would bat an eye.

Minutes felt like hours. Her legs grew weak, her vision blackening at the edges. Every muscle screamed for relief, but she had nothing left. The world spun. Then—

Her body gave out.

She flew off the treadmill, the force of the belt launching her backward. Her skull slammed against another machine, pain exploding in her head. The gym spun wildly.

Then she vomited.

Nothing came up but bile, she hadn't eaten in over a day. Her body convulsed, every nerve on fire, and then—

Darkness.

She collapsed in her own vomit, her breath shallow. No one came to check on her. No one asked if she was okay.

Because in this godforsaken place, no one gave a damn if she lived or died.