Slowly, I reach my hand to cup his cheek. I’m aching with desire to feel his skin under my fingertips again. But before I get to do that, the lock turns and the door swings open.
I’m blinded by the light for a moment. Blinking rapidly, I shield my eyes with the back of my hand. When I’m able to see again, Kitajo’s gone.
Two unfamiliar Caligos approach me and yank me onto my feet. I’m weak from lack of food and dehydration. Thankfully, I don’t have to walk on my own. Holding me by the arms, they drag me out of the cell.
The roomthey bring me to is…bare. The stone walls and floors are empty. Nothing but a sole wooden board on top of a narrow stone platform that stands in the middle of the space.
I swallow the hard ball lodged in my throat as the Caligos bring me closer to the contraption. There’s a number of wide leather straps attached to it. My muscles tense, but I keep my head leveled.
I’m not going to lose it.
The Caligos drag me on top of it and push me flat against the wood. Then, they strap me in. I push against my restraints, but there’s no space to move.
One of the capturers shoves a stinky, rough cloth bag over my face before I can fathom what’s happening. My heart is racing, and no matter how much I try, I can’t get my breath under control. I’m no Decarios.
My mind is fighting the fear about what’s to come. But my body knows. And it’s preparing.
Once more, I’m in the dark, restrained. Two strangers lurking around.
“Names of other Savage King operatives?” a low voice asks.
I wet my chapped lips and keep my mouth shut.
Seconds tick by. Silence stretches. Then, hinges creak, and I’m tilted downwards. Before I know it, freezing water pours over my face.
My first instinct is to turn my head to the side, to try and avoid it. But the leather strap across my forehead keeps me in place.
I can’t hold it in. Desperate for air, I open my mouth to inhale. Instead of air, I’m flooded with cold water. It lodges everywhere—my mouth, throat, nose.
I can’t breathe.
I’m drowning.
I choke on the water, my lungs burning. The terror locks my body tight.
I need to breathe.
But there’s no oxygen. Just an endless stream of water.
Abruptly it stops. I gasp, temporarily relieved. My lungs painfully burn as they fill with the air.
Oh, spirits of the gods.
Somewhere in the distance, a voice asks, “Names of other Savage King operatives?”
I cough and gasp. My throat seizes.
They’ll have to try harder.
The next surge of water is even worse than the last. I haven’t had the time to fully recover. My lungs are desperate for air. I fist my hands and push against the restraints while the water pours down my face.
My chest tightens.
When I try to inhale, I snort the water in, which only makes it worse.
Oh spirits of the gods. I’m going to drown here.
Then, the water stops.
