Page 75 of Mission Shift

“You must know,” he murmured, “curare doesn’t last long. Soon, your muscles will fully be yours again.”

He tapped the side of the machine, taking on an air of clinical detachment.

“And when that happens, the real fun begins. I’ll be able to see your reactions.”

My muscles tingled as my body continued to return to me.

“I will know all your secrets,” the doctor promised. “I’m very good at my job.”

Dr. Gore’s fingers curled around my throat.

The machine hummed.

“I will break you,” he whispered.

Like hell you will.

The first jolt ripped through my body like an iron rod driven straight into my spine.

Every nerve lit up, electric fire tearing through me in violent waves. The muscles in my arms and legs spasmed.

The burn sank deep, curling through my bones, setting every cell in my body ablaze. I tried to shut my mind off, to ride out the pain, but it was impossible. It wasn’t something I could control. It owned me.

My body shuddered violently as it strained against the straps, sweat pouring down my face, trickling from my temple into my ear. My lungs refused to expand, my ribs clenching tight as if my own body were strangling me.

“Ah,” Dr. Gore murmured, adjusting the voltage dial. “The human body is a fascinating thing. With just the right amount of current, the pain becomes unbearable but is not enough to stop your heart. You’ll stay right here with us, my dear. I’ll make sure of it.”

I gasped when the current was cut off. My body sagged against the table, my head lolling to the side as I struggled for air. My skin was wet, clammy, my muscles twitching involuntarily.

Oleg chuckled. “Not much of a fighter now, are you?”

I barely heard him over the hammering of my pulse.

Think, Daria.

My training fought to take hold, clawing through the agony.

Compartmentalize. Divide the pain into pieces. Break it apart.

I couldn’t let them have me. Not my mind. Not my secrets.

Dr. Gore reached forward and patted the side of my cheek. “Your American, did he tell you who he was?”

I swallowed the bile that was rising in my throat again. My tongue was thick in my mouth, the curare fully relenting its hold. I forced my lips apart.

“I—I didn’t know anything.” I coughed.

The doctor sighed as if I were a disappointment. “I don’t believe you.”

Another surge.

My spine arched, my heels dug into the table, and my entire body went rigid with pure, unrelenting agony.

I bit my tongue, and the taste of blood mixed with the bile in my mouth.

Heat radiated from my skin. My body trembled so much it seemed I would come apart at the seams.

Say something. Give them something.

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