Bunker 77

8. Fikree's POV

Fikree's POV

I ran my tongue over my teeth, my arms crossed against my chest, as I listened to the babble of my cadet, who had been talking in circles for the past five minutes.

"We tried everything you told us to do, sir. The whiplash, the freezer, the-"

He finally shut up when I raised my hand. "Enough. My order is simple, Khun," I said, grabbing his collar and twisting it with my fist, so our eyes were at the same level. "Make. Them. Talk."

His lips trembled as he tried to fish out some excuses. His brown eyes dilated in fear. "I-we will try again, s-sir."

Huffing, I let go of the collar and watched under my nose as he tumbled onto the ground by my feet. All of them were useless. How did they even pass the military test?

"Don't bother," I said, making my way towards the cell. "Open the door."

Nodding his head, he slipped his trembling hand into his pocket and took out the keys. There were three keys in total for the cell, specifically made and added under my request. Khun pushed the thick metal door open, which let out a shriek with the movement.

The pungent smell of dried blood and sweat tickled my nostrils. Four men looked up when I stepped inside the room, except for the man in the middle, who was chained around the ankles and wrists. James. The leader of the team, who was sent to avert our attention as another team, took Amna. My Amna.

It had been two months since the wedding, two months since I last saw her.

I balled my fists at the thought.

James looked up when he saw my boots stop in front of him. Both of his eyes were a shade of purple; his shirt was torn at the sleeves and the back, and I could see the open wounds made by the whiplash. No longer looking like the man I used to know. I glanced at the other men, who were in similar conditions.

Well, seeing the men myself, I must admit that Khun did a good job. But apparently, it's not good enough.

"So, you have decided to grace us with your presence," said James, chuckling.

I knelt in front of him, fighting myself from punching the smug smirk off his face. Not yet. "I'm sure you know what I'm doing here. How about you do your old friend a favour and tell me where Amna is?"

James laughed, but it was cut short when he coughed out blood. He spat the blood on the ground, dangerously near to my knee. "She must be so important to you that you decided to come here yourself."

"Stop stating the obvious and give me the address," I said, grabbing the back of his head and tugging at the hairs. "You do know that if I turn you and your little friends in to the Court, you can be sentenced to life in prison for kidnapping my wife," I said, narrowing my eyes at him.

James still had the guts to smirk at me. "I don't understand why you're so keen on finding her. She's safer where she is now."

Clenching my jaw, I punched his face with my other fist. A part of me smiled in satisfaction when James coughed out more blood and the red liquid started to pool between us.

James' men stood up when they saw the state their leader was in, even if their states were no better than his. "Easy guys, he won't kill me."

"Look, Amna is my wife now. I don't care if she's the late king's heir or something. I just want her back."

"I don't care if she's your wife," James said, his dark eyes piercing through my soul. "She is King Aryan's descendant, and we'll protect his descendants until peace is restored all over the kingdom. Until all of his descendants can live without the fear of being killed."