The room was a desolate chamber of cold, unyielding stone, the air thick with the stench of sweat, blood, and the lingering scent of burning flesh. Sabir Quinn’s scream echoed through the space, a raw, tortured sound that ricocheted off the walls and faded into the oppressive silence. Strapped to an iron chair at the center of the room, his wrists and ankles bound by steel cuffs that dug into his skin, cutting off circulation and leaving his hands numb. The sick bastards bolted the chair to the ground, and despite his thrashing, there was no escape from the agony being inflicted upon him.
Arcs of electricity danced across his body, sending searing pain through every nerve. His muscles spasmed uncontrollably, his body contorting in pain as the electricity surged through him, leaving him breathless and screaming. The voltage was at the perfect level to inflict excruciating pain without causing unconsciousness, precisely the right balance to break a person without ending their life.
Standing before him, as still as a statue, was Elektra Voltaire. In the dimly lit room, her tall and slender figure stood, clad in a black, form-fitting suit that absorbed the light. Her hands crackled with electric energy, each spark illuminating her face in brief, sharp flashes. Her expression was one of cold detachment, the icy blue of her eyes reflecting the electricity she controlled with such ease. This was just a routine task for her: extracting another secret by inflicting horrendous pain.
Elektra held her gaze at Sabir, watching every convulsion, every twitch, with an almost clinical interest. Her posture was relaxed, one hand on her hip, the other outstretched as she manipulated the current with the precision of a surgeon. When she finally paused, allowing Sabir a moment to breathe, it was less an act of mercy and a more calculated move, a way to prolong the torture.
“You promised you’d cooperate, Sabir,” a voice said from the shadows, smooth and cold, like a blade sliding between ribs. Noah Voltaire stepped forward, his features sharp and angular, illuminated by the flickering light of the single bulb that hung from the ceiling. His dark hair was slicked back, and his eyes, a mirror of his sister’s, gleamed with a dangerous intensity. He wore a tailored suit that spoke of wealth and power, its dark fabric immaculate, untouched by the grime of the room. He exuded an air of control, a man accustomed to getting what he wanted—by any means necessary.
Sabir could barely focus on Noah’s words, his mind clouded with pain and exhaustion. But he understood enough. They wanted something from him—something he had sworn never to give them. And yet, here he was, bound and broken, with little left to protect his secrets.
Noah circled the chair like a predator stalking wounded prey, his eyes never leaving Sabir. “Yet, here we are,” he continued, his voice edged with impatience. “And you’ve given us nothing worthwhile.”
Sabir’s head lolled forward, his chin resting on his chest as he struggled to catch his breath. His skin was slick with sweat, and his body felt like it was on fire from the inside out. He tried to lift his head, to meet Noah’s gaze with some semblance of defiance, but his neck muscles refused to obey. Instead, he closed his eyes, focusing on the rhythmic pounding of his heart, willing himself to stay conscious.
The realization had dawned on him hours ago—perhaps even before the torture began. The moment he had arrived at the Voltaire Estate, a sprawling fortress of wealth and power nestled in the heart of Havana, he knew he was in trouble. Only when they started questioning about Mia, his niece, did he fully comprehend the extent of the peril. They weren’t interested in him at all; he was merely a means to an end, a tool to find the one person he had sworn to protect.
“Noah,” Elektra said, her voice cool and precise, “he’s stalling.” She moved closer, her heels clicking on the stone floor, the sound echoing in the silent chamber. She reached out, placing a hand on Sabir’s shoulder, her touch cold and devoid of compassion. “Where is the child known as Mia Quinn?”
Sabir’s heart pounded in his chest, his mind racing as he considered his options. Every instinct screamed at him to protect Mia, to keep her hidden from these monsters at all costs. But the pain was overwhelming, clouding his thoughts, and he knew he couldn’t endure much more.
Before he could respond, a sudden surge of electricity ripped through his body, and Sabir’s scream tore from his throat, raw and desperate. The pain was unbearable, a white-hot agony that consumed him entirely, leaving no room for coherent thought. Elektra increased the voltage, her expression never wavering, as if she were conducting an experiment rather than torturing a man.
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“Where is the bastard?” Elektra demanded, her voice cutting through the haze of pain. The electricity continued to flow, unrelenting, as Sabir convulsed in the chair, his muscles locking up, his vision going white.
“B-Bastard?” Sabir stammered, the word slurred as he forced it past his lips. The question slipped out before he could stop himself, confusion cutting through the agony. Why did they keep calling the little girl that? The word was not suitable and made no sense. Mia was a child, more than likely innocent and sweet, with no understanding of the evils searching for her. “Why… Do you keep calling her… a bastard?”
Elektra’s eyes flashed with something Sabir couldn’t quite decipher, a mix of anger and something else—something personal. She leaned in closer, her voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “You’re smart. You can figure it out, but when you do, it’ll be your last breath.”
Sabir’s mind raced, trying to piece together the fragments of information through the fog of pain. What did they know about Mia? How were they related to her? The questions swirled in his mind, unanswered, as he struggled to maintain his grip on reality.
But the pain was too much, the torture too intense. His resolve was crumbling, the lines between truth and lies blurring as he fought to stay conscious. He needed to say something, anything, to make it stop—to buy himself more time, even if it was only a few minutes.
“She… she was at a hospital in Tetra City,” Sabir gasped, every word a monumental effort. His vision blurred, and he could barely see Elektra’s face as he spoke. “But… but I don’t know where she is now…”
It was a half truth, one Sabir prayed would be enough to end this excruciating torture. The full truth was still being hidden, safely tucked away in his pocket—an address scrawled on a piece of paper, the last known location of Mia Quinn. He had to protect her, no matter the cost, but he knew it was only a matter of time before they saw through his deception.
Noah stepped closer, his presence looming over Sabir like a dark specter. He tilted his head slightly, studying Sabir with a predator’s patience, his eyes narrowing as he searched for any sign of deceit. “You’re still hiding something,” Noah said quietly, his voice dripping with menace. “You’ve been holding out on us.”
Sabir’s pulse quickened, his fear spiking as Noah’s words sank in. He knew his lie wouldn’t hold forever, but he had hoped it would buy him more time—enough time to figure out a way to escape or, at the very least, die before revealing Mia’s true location. But the way Noah was looking at him, with that cold, calculating stare, Sabir knew his time was running out.
Noah’s hand moved toward the control panel that managed the electricity, his fingers brushing against the dials that would unleash another wave of unbearable pain. Sabir braced himself, his body tensing in anticipation of the next assault, his mind scrambling for a way out. But before Noah could act, the door to the room creaked open, the sound cutting through the tension like a knife.
A young maid entered the room, her face pale and her hands trembling as she clutched a small, folded piece of paper to her chest. She kept her eyes downcast, her entire body radiating fear as she approached Elektra, clearly terrified to interrupt.
“L-lady Elektra,” the maid stammered, her voice barely above a whisper. She glanced nervously at Noah, then back to Elektra, clearly caught between fear of the siblings and fear of whoever had sent her. “The Patriarch is calling for you and Sir Noah. He… He says it’s urgent.”
Elektra’s eyes narrowed in irritation, and she turned to the maid, her expression full of cold disdain. “What does he want now?” she muttered, more to herself than anyone else. Releasing Sabir’s shoulder, she stepped back, causing the electricity in the air to fade and giving him a momentary reprieve. “This better be important.”
The maid didn’t respond, only dipped her head in a nervous bow, clearly eager to escape the room and the volatile siblings within it. Elektra ignored her, already turning toward Noah, her expression hardening as she considered the interruption.
Noah frowned, clearly unhappy with the timing, but he finally stepped back from the control panel, his hand dropping to his side. He cast one last,lingering look at Sabir, a silent promise of more pain to come. “This isn’t over, Quinn,” he said, his voice low and filled with dark intent. “We’ll be back.”
Elektra nodded curtly at the maid, dismissing her with a flick of her wrist before heading toward the door. Noah followed, though not before giving Sabir a final, lingering glance, as if memorizing every detail of his tortured state for future reference.
The door closed behind them with a heavy thud, and Sabir was alone with only the silence of the torture chamber to keep him company. His body sagged against the restraints, every muscle trembling with exhaustion and pain. He was free, if only temporarily, but the reprieve did little to soothe the dread gnawing at his insides.
He was running out of time. They would be back, and when they returned, there would be no more lies, no more stalling. Sabir knew he couldn’t endure another round of torture and still keep Mia’s secret. He needed to act—and fast—if he had any hope of saving her from the Voltaires’ clutches.
But as the darkness closed in around him, his thoughts grew sluggish, and the weight of his injuries pressed down on him, making it difficult to breathe. Sabir’s last conscious thought before slipping into unconsciousness was a single, desperate prayer: that Mia would stay hidden, for the sake of his sister.
“Mia…”