The Chrysalis Option: A Kiana Azunna Novel by Eric Coulson

Author:Eric Coulson [Coulson, Eric]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Eric Coulson
Published: 2024-03-05T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Two

Azunna started to stir when she felt something tugging at her legs. As she became more aware, she realized someone was trying to take her trousers off. Instinctively she started to struggle.

“Stop moving bitch!” A slap across her face momentarily stunned her. Not enough to put her out again, but enough that her struggles stopped long enough for them to get her clothes off. She knew she had pushed it too far, too fast, and now she was paying the price. With her head bobbing, she glanced around trying to take in her surroundings. The room was a concrete box, with water stains on the ceiling and cracks running down the walls. There was a solitary bulb hanging from the ceiling, almost like a low-budget movie or a dime store novel. There were blood stains on the concrete floor. It was cold and damp. It reminded her of that cell in Wales.

Azunna was suddenly exhausted, the long day combined with the lack of water and food and having been knocked out had sapped all the energy inside her. Semi-conscious she was limp, and the guards were still struggling to strip her of her clothing. Now naked she instinctively started to struggle.

Smack. An oversized hand hit her across the face. “Stop fighting bitch. You keep this up and you will wish you were dead even sooner.” She passed out.

Azunna started to come around again when she felt cold water splashing across her face. At first, a bucket of water had been thrown at her, but quickly she realized there was a towel over her face, and they were pouring water over her nose and mouth while the subordinate thugs held her arms down. She struggled to breathe, the sensation of drowning and the attendant panic overcoming her. Then they suddenly stopped. Leaving her lying on the floor, gasping for air, struggling to remain conscious. The respite was brief though, as two of the thugs grabbed her shoulders and the third began the process all over again.

They weren’t even asking her questions. The whole point of this process seemed to be the cruelty. They had not asked her who she was, why she was there, anything. It was apparently recreation for this group of people. They finished this round and threw her to the ground. She cut her head on rough concrete and some blood trickled down the side of her face. The copper taste of blood was in her mouth.

“Let’s go.” The thug-in-chief had decided to pause the session.

An hour ago, she had been a confident intelligence officer and battle-tested Royal Marine approaching a target, now she lay naked, barely conscious in a dank-smelling cell below ground in the Syrian desert. The combination of exhaustion and physical abuse made her feel as if she could not go on any longer. She drifted in and out of consciousness. She was going to die here, because of her own rash action once again, it was all going to have been for nothing. She began to hallucinate.

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