The room was cold. Concrete walls, one light buzzing overhead, shadows stretching in the corners. My wrists were cuffed to a chair bolted into the floor. Across from me sat a man in fatigues, his face unreadable, his accent thick with menace.
This wasn't a classroom lecture anymore. This was survival.
"You are caught," he said flatly. "Your cover is blown. You will tell us who you are. Who you work for. And you will tell us about your family." He leaned in closer, his eyes narrowing. "Because we will find them. One way or another."
I stared at him, calm. "Then you're wasting your time."
The first blow landed fast — a fist across my jaw. My head snapped sideways, but I grinned, blood pooling at the corner of my lip.
"That all you got?"
His face twisted with anger. Two more came in, instructors dragging a bucket forward. Cold water sloshed, and before I could brace, they tipped the chair back and pressed a cloth across my face. The flood of water poured down, suffocating, drowning me in air I couldn't breathe.
For a moment, instinct screamed to panic. But I fought it. Fought harder than I'd ever fought.
When they yanked the cloth off, I coughed, choked — and laughed.
"That's your plan? Get me wet?" I rasped, my smile wicked. "Maybe next time bring a towel."
Electricity was next. Wires clipped to my arms, a jolt that lit up every nerve like fire. My body convulsed, teeth grinding, muscles screaming.
When it ended, I slumped forward, gasping.
"You ready to talk?" the man asked.
I lifted my head slowly, meeting his gaze with a grin that didn't match the burns still stinging my skin. "Yeah. I'll talk."
He leaned in eagerly.
"Go to hell."
Another jolt. Another round of water. They mixed them, layering pain and suffocation until my body was screaming at me to give in. But I didn't. Not a word about Ellie. Not a word about my past. Not a single detail about who I was.
Just laughter. Defiance.
When the drill ended, I was half-dragged, half-shoved back upright. My face was pale, my shirt soaked, my arms shaking from residual voltage. But my smile never left.
The instructor with the clipboard entered, his tone brisk. "Bartowski held. Zero compromise. No actionable intel given under extreme duress."
He glanced at me, his eyes betraying the faintest flicker of surprise. "Most recruits break before the third cycle. You didn't break at all."
I spat blood onto the concrete floor, still grinning. "Guess I'm not most recruits."
The cuffs were unlocked, the drill officially over. My body ached, but my mind was steel.
I'd proven something today — not just that I could endure pain, but that no matter how far they pushed me, I wouldn't give up what mattered.
And in the spy world, that made me dangerous.