Page 44 of Oath

I could hold the line.

Because somewhere out there, my teamwascoming. Grace was probably going to be with them and she would bepissed. It would be worth it.

I don’t knowwhen I slipped.

One second, I was gripping onto Grace’s voice like a lifeline—counting, visualizing, grounding myself in memories—and the next, I was somewhere else entirely. Not unconscious. Not exactly dreaming either. Just… floating. Detached. Like my brain had quietly decided to step out of the room and let my body rot in peace.

It wasn’t peace, though. Not even close.

Because when they came back, theytoreme out of that void.

The lights snapped on so bright and fast it felt like a punch to the skull. A flood of sterile white burned through my eyes, blinding, searing. My head jerked back, instinctive, involuntary. A sound tore from my throat—half-snarl, half-gasp—as my vision exploded into a storm of afterimages and migraine sparks.

Then came the water.

Sudden.

Cold.

Relentless.

Like an executioner's switch had been thrown. It cascaded from above, reactivating every nerve ending. Every inch of me was drenched in seconds. My breath stuttered in my chest. The water slid down my spine, across raw skin, into open scrapes. It didn’t just soak. Itpenetrated.

And just like that, theclickcame.

Electric warning. Familiar. Immediate.

I barely had time to brace.

CRACK.

The shock hit with precision. Like a conductor wielding a baton of lightning, the nameless man played me like a violent instrument. My limbs spasmed, my back bowed, and I bit down hard on the inside of my cheek to keep the scream inside. Metal on nerve. My thoughts scattered like shrapnel.

This time, however, the assholessaidsomething.

“Where is the drive?”

No buildup. No soft threats. No misdirection.

Just straight to it.

“Where did Voodoo take it?”

I coughed, spit mixing with blood. “Fuck if I know,” I rasped, jaw barely working.

CRACK.

A second shock. Right thigh. Too close to the tracker.

I snarled through clenched teeth, the fire racing from hip to heel, nerves lighting up in defiance.

“You were his commanding officer,” the voice said—neutral, precise, clinical. “You knew the mission profile. You knew his extraction points. Where did he take it?”

CRACK.

Another jolt. This one hit the water near my feet, coursing up through both legs and into my spine. My vision whited out. For a second, I saw stars. Maybe galaxies.

“Where is the drive?” they asked again. Calm. Measured. Like this was a goddamn debriefing and not their version of enhanced interrogation in a cement crypt.