. ゚✫ ❪ 𝐓𝐖𝐎 ❫ ━ ༉‧₊

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𝐀 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐄𝐄𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃
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➤ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 the cold, dimly lit chamber, crashing against the concrete walls and worming into the ears of anyone close enough to hear

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➤ 𝐌𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐋𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐀𝐍𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇 the cold, dimly lit chamber, crashing against the concrete walls and worming into the ears of anyone close enough to hear. The unsettling cacophony was punctuated by the sharp, electric crack of a taser followed by a low, mechanical whir.

The acrid smell of burnt flesh mixed with the harsh scent of unnamed chemicals permeated the air, clinging to every surface.

The stench was overpowering, suffocating anyone within two feet, making them feel lightheaded and sick. But for those in the room—the epicenter of this nightmarish chaos—it was unbearable.

Wanda was strapped to a chair that leaned back at a cruel angle, every part of her body restrained. Thick leather straps bit into her ankles, legs, wrists, and arms, holding her still with a terrifying finality.

Her head was forced against the chair, a metal brace preventing even the smallest movement.

She couldn't twitch a muscle, her body too sedated from the cocktail of drugs they had pumped into her veins.

Her vision was a haze of blurred shapes and blinding lights, the harsh fluorescents above her only intensifying the throbbing headache that pulsed like a drum in her skull.

Through her foggy sight, Wanda's heart sank as her eyes locked onto her brother. He writhed in agony as they tortured him, his choked screams and groans filling her ears, his pain bleeding into her soul. Every crack of the taser sent a new wave of anguish through him—and her.

She wanted to scream, to beg them to stop, but her voice, like her body, was locked away.

All she could do was watch helplessly, hot tears streaming down her face, each drop a silent plea for mercy that would never come.

But it felt as though her lips were sewn shut. No matter how much strength she tried to muster, they refused to part. It was as if her body no longer obeyed her commands. All Wanda could do was scream in her mind, her voice trapped deep inside her, silenced by the drugs and the horror.

She couldn't understand how it had come to this.

The plan had been desperate, but they had no other choice. Pietro had tried to escape, his speed a fleeting hope, but it wasn't enough. He'd been captured within minutes.

Their punishment this time was different—darker, more calculated. Usually, the sadistic routine involved a few guards, torturing and brainwashing their victim.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐓,    ❪ THE BOYS ❫Where stories live. Discover now