Haven- Agent 51 by D. C. Akers

Author:D. C. Akers [Akers, D. C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Ebook Assets
Published: 2016-11-30T23:00:00+00:00

***

Rylan did not die that day. Instead the days turned into weeks, and the torture grew worse. The small cuts and abrasions on his body seemed to multiply, and his stab wound never really healed. Each of Nao’s visits grew longer and only concluded when Rylan passed out from extreme pain or fatigue.

His cell remained the same throughout the duration. The nights were still cold and the days humid, sometimes stifling. Foul smells spoiled the air as they drifted up from the floors and through the thin cracks in the walls. Some days he was so nauseous he could barely move. But most of his time was spent looking through the keyhole.

This small crevice had become something of a window, his only real escape. He would stare for hours through the hole, lost in his thoughts. Often times, it felt like a quiet rebellion, strategically planned while Nao was away. It had become an exercise to discover the contents of his own mind. A self-assessment to make sure that he was still sane. Then maybe, just maybe, there was still hope.

Being captive came with its own set of adversities beyond the cruel treatment that was now a part of his daily routine. It seemed like Nao derived pleasure in torturing him only to heal him again. The repetitive process was agonizing—more to his psyche than his body itself. Most nights, after a day of physical abuse, Rylan would find his wounds cleaned, skin stitched, and his dressings changed. He would spend the rest of the night huddled near the door, looking through the keyhole into the corridor, just to repeat the process again the next day.

But one night Rylan awoke early to find himself sprawled face down in his own blood. The flesh on his back was scorched, and any slight movement cracked the dried skin, making it bleed. He had three broken ribs now, which forced him to take shallow breaths. His fingertips were raw, his nail beds torn off and splintered due to his violent convulsions while he was on his hands and knees.

Rylan turned his head so that his cheek pressed into the cold floor. The rancid smell of the dungeon still lingered, but even that could not hide the smell of his own blood. The air stung a gash on his forehead, and from the corner of his eye, he could see a small trickle of blood travel over the bridge of his nose and onto the floor.

He was going to die here. It was like Nao had said. The Majesty would not come. They couldn’t. If they tried to rescue him, they would acknowledge that the Majesty had a hand in this rogue mission. He knew that was something they could not do.

To lose his life was one thing, but to lose it here, in this state, was demoralizing. He was glad Alisa would not see him like this. She would remember him as the strong, confident Keeper she had married. That was the man she loved.

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