Captured. 'The Agent.'

Agent Petrov.

Emrsyn's POV:

"Stop moving." He spat, his warped accent tunnelling into my ears and worming itself into my brain.

My wrists ached as i felt the rough rope that was binding me to the chair rub against my delicate skin, my ankles were also bound to the chair with sharper wire which cut into my feet and drew blood. I was rendered helpless. However I still managed to thrust my body forward, eager to gain even an inch of freedom. Agent Orlov stood towering over me, his hand snaked around my neck in a threatening grasp.

"Stop. Moving." He repeated, I disregarded his wicked words and continued thrashing my body around. I quickly realised that decision was a miscalculated mistake as i felt a sharp blow land on my chiseled cheek bone. Pain throbbed throughout my body, vibrating from my face, down my neck and into my torso. Another obliterating jab rippled across my abdomen, no matter how many sit-ups i had done for the past ten years, in this moment all i could feel gliding across my six pack was pain.

Finally, i felt a fist strike my temple, my vision began to melt into blackness, but before everything went dark, my eyes caught a glimpse of Agent Petrov- a brown eyed, beautiful brunette standing in the corner of the room, my head lulled and i lost consciousness.

•

As i felt my chest rising and light seeping into my eyes, my ears welcomed the vibrations of sound entering them.

"Clean her up." Orlov snarled, presumably at Petrov.

I assumed that after i had blacked out, there had been more exchanges between my body and Orlov's fierce fist. I peeked down and witnessed the pool of my own blood at my feet. I didn't want to make anyone aware that i was awake because i was certain they wouldn't let me stay that way for long.

Orlov exited and slammed the door behind him, the sound was followed by the clip clop of high heels on the smooth concrete ground where i sat. The vibrations of each step travelled up my legs and sent a sly shiver up my spine.

Soon, i was met by the face of Agent Petrov. Her left eyebrow housed a small diagonal scar pointing towards the sky, undoubtedly the result of an encounter with the upward slash of a knife. Her brown eyes stared solemnly into my blue, i assumed she was trying to identify if i was in any way responsive or if my mind was still like a chasm of emptiness.

Her hair was wavy, brown and as she circled me checking for which parts of me had come in contact with the wrath of Orlov, her hair brushed against my sensitive skin, it felt like with one touch she had ripped open my skin and was controlling each and every one of my nerves. A jagged gnash was scattered across her right cheek. Snaking it's way towards her forehead.

It was clear that I was not Orlov's only victim; even though Petrov was an agent, she was a woman, and men like Orlov scorned those like her. Her lip seemed to be his choice for where he wished to mark his authority as it displayed another wound which still had fresh blood dripping from it. Her eyes stared into my own, they were not inviting, they did not droop as mine did, they did not seek empathy, no , they were cold, they housed regret, desperation, dread.

She held a finger before my eyes and moved it slowly from side to side; my gaze followed her motions, signaling to her that I was conscious as I shifted in my seat. As much as they wished to drain information from me, they had to look at me and in the state i was, i was something of an eyesore. Petrov sloshed alcohol onto a towel and pressed it to my head.

I winced, feeling the contact of the cloth would have been painful enough but the sting of the alcohol making it's way into my flesh made things infinitely worse. At my pain, i seen a glimpse of sympathy in the eyes of Petrov, as she looked at me almost regretful. However, that only lasted for a second before she placed her guard up again and her eyes returned to their familiar brown, murky puddle of despair.