Pain.
It was the first thing Alexa felt as she drifted back to consciousness. Her body ached, her wrists raw from the restraints biting into her skin. A sharp, sterile scent filled her nostrils—disinfectant, metal, and something else.
Blood.
Her own.
She blinked against the harsh fluorescent light above her, her head pounding. Beside her, Amira groaned, shifting against her bonds. Alexandra was slumped forward, barely conscious.
They had failed.
They were back.
A door hissed open.
Footsteps. Slow. Deliberate.
Then, that voice—calm, unwavering.
The Head Instructor.
"You really thought you could escape?"
Alexa lifted her head, her lip split, dried blood crusting her face. She refused to look away.
The Instructor sighed. "Disappointing. You showed promise, Alexa." She stepped closer, her cold fingers gripping Alexa's chin, forcing her to meet her gaze. "And yet, here you are. Back where you belong."
Amira's breath was ragged. "We don't belong here."
The Instructor smirked. "No?" She straightened, clasping her hands behind her back. "Then why do you keep coming back?"
She turned, nodding toward the guards.
Pain erupted through Alexa's ribs as a boot connected with her side. She gasped but didn't cry out.
Alexandra whimpered.
Amira spat blood onto the floor. "You can break our bodies," she snarled, "but not our will."
The Instructor chuckled. "Brave words." She tilted her head. "Let's see how long that lasts."
Another nod.
More blows.
Agony.
Darkness threatened to swallow Alexa whole, but she refused to surrender to it. Not yet.
Because deep in her gut, she knew something.
They weren't alone.
Among the guards. The staff. The ones watching.
There were real cops here. Undercover. Waiting.
She met Amira's gaze.
Saw the flicker of understanding.
Hope.
They had lost this round.
But the game wasn't over.
Not yet.
And when the time came—
They would be ready