The third floor of the drop ship was silent, the hum of the ship’s systems the only sound as you stood there, arms pulled tightly to each side, bound to the metal structure. The ropes dug painfully into your skin, but you refused to show weakness. You wouldn’t give them the satisfaction.

Bellamy stood a few feet away, eyes cold and focused, his frustration mounting. The others stood back, letting him take the lead. He moved toward you, cutting the seatbelt from one of the chairs, folding it between his hands. The tension in the air was thick as he raised it, a silent threat hanging between you.

“This can end whenever you want,” Bellamy’s voice was low, dangerous. “Tell me why you were watching us. Are there more of you out there?”

You stayed silent, your gaze unwavering despite the pain in your body. Bellamy scowled, swinging the seatbelt down sharply across your stomach. The sting was immediate, but you bit back any sound, standing your ground.

Bellamy’s eyes never left you as he swung the belt again, this time across your ribs. The pain was sharp, but you held firm, your breath shallow, steady.

He stepped back, his gaze piercing. “Last chance,” he muttered, his voice dark.

You stayed silent, refusing to give in, your defiance unwavering. Bellamy’s grip on the belt tightened, waiting, but you didn’t break.