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CHAPTER IX. How it Feels
The weight of her failures pressed down on Elina like an iron shroud, suffocating and relentless. Each misstep, each botched mission, carved deeper into her resolve, threatening to break her completely. She knew what awaited her-another stint in the Dark Room, that godforsaken void where time lost all meaning. She would be left there longer this time, abandoned in the pitch-black emptiness, no food, no light, no reprieve. Only the cold embrace of darkness and the creeping madness that came with it.
Zoya and she had been separated, torn apart like fragile threads in a tapestry. They had failed too many times, their bond now deemed a liability, their partnership severed indefinitely. Alone in the sterile confines of the overview room, Elina waited for Ms. Smirnova's inevitable arrival. The anticipation gnawed at her, a relentless ache in the pit of her stomach.
The door creaked open, and the sharp scent of citrus perfume flooded the room, announcing Ms. Smirnova's presence before she even stepped inside. Elina didn't look up. She couldn't bear to see the disappointment that would surely be etched on the woman's face.
Ms. Smirnova's voice was cold, devoid of any hint of warmth. "You continue to disappoint, Anhelina. First Dreykov, then Barton, now Kotovsky. I'm at a loss. What am I supposed to do with you?"
Elina's gaze remained fixed on the table, her vision blurring as tears welled in her eyes. She was unraveling, her emotions threatening to spill over in a flood of despair. She needed a break, a moment to breathe, but there was no respite to be found.
Ms. Smirnova sighed, a sound more weary than angry. "I believe I might have a solution." The woman's heels clicked against the floor as she rounded the table, her hand coming to rest on Elina's shoulder with a touch that felt almost... maternal. A cruel parody of comfort.
"Yes?" Elina's voice was small, barely more than a whisper.
"Follow me."
Ms. Smirnova led her down the dimly lit corridor, the same one where Elina had once glimpsed Natasha in the throes of torment. The memory sent a shiver down her spine, her skin prickling with unease. She didn't know where they were going, but dread coiled in her stomach like a serpent, tightening its grip with every step.
They reached a door, and Ms. Smirnova pushed it open, revealing a room filled with strange, unfamiliar equipment. A single chair sat at the center, wires snaking from its arms to a bank of monitors and other foreign technology. The sight of it sent a jolt of terror through Elina-this was wrong, all wrong. The setup was eerily reminiscent of the devices she had seen in Kotovsky's lair, the ones used to inflict unspeakable pain.
Panic surged within her, and Elina bolted, trying desperately to flee. But before she could reach the door, hands-too many hands-seized her, dragging her back with a brutal force that left no room for escape. The door slammed shut, locking her in with her captors.
They threw her into the chair, her body thrashing against their iron grip, but it was no use. She was outnumbered, overpowered.
"Sedate her," one of the men ordered. Elina felt the sharp sting of a needle piercing her neck, the cold liquid burning as it coursed through her veins. Her strength ebbed away, her limbs growing heavy and unresponsive. She slumped in the chair, helpless as the world began to blur at the edges.
"What are...you...doing to me?" Her words slurred together, her voice barely recognizable as her own.
Ms. Smirnova's hand closed over Elina's, a mocking gesture of reassurance. "This is for the better, Anhelina. You'll understand soon enough."
Elina's eyelids drooped, but she fought against the encroaching darkness. She needed to stay awake, to know what they were planning. But her body refused to obey, muscles slack and useless under the weight of the sedative. She watched in horror as the wires were connected to her body, needles piercing her flesh with a cold precision that made her want to scream. But she couldn't. The sedative held her in a vice grip, silencing her, paralyzing her. All she could do was watch.
"We're ready," the man beside her announced. The one at the monitor nodded, his fingers dancing over the controls before he pulled a lever.
Agony ripped through Elina as the electricity surged into her, a violent torrent of energy that burned through her veins and seared her nerves. The wires hummed with power, vibrating with an intensity that made her bones rattle. It was pain unlike anything she had ever experienced, a relentless onslaught that seemed to stretch into eternity.
She wanted to scream, to tear herself free from the torment, but her body refused to respond. The pain was all-encompassing, drowning out every other thought, every other sensation. She couldn't move, couldn't speak. She could only endure.
Minutes dragged by, each one an eternity in itself, until finally, mercifully, the electricity ceased. Elina slumped in the chair, her body trembling, her mind reeling from the aftershocks. She felt as though she might die right there, her body on the verge of collapse.
But she didn't.
Slowly, awareness returned, and with it, a strange realization. She felt... different. The pain receded, leaving in its wake a peculiar sense of clarity, of power. The exhaustion, the weariness that had weighed her down, seemed to lift. Her muscles felt taut, her mind sharp, as if something within her had been awakened, something stronger.
She looked down at her hands, the sweat that had soaked her skin now evaporated, her body humming with newfound strength. Whatever they had done to her, it had changed her. Made her stronger. Stronger than them.
Any lingering loyalty, any vestige of respect she had held for the Red Room, dissolved in that moment. They had taken everything from her-her freedom, her will, her very humanity. But now, they had given her something far more dangerous.
Natasha had escaped once, breaking free from their chains. Now, it was Elina's turn. She would not be held captive any longer. And no one-not Ms. Smirnova, not Svechnikov, not anyone-would be able to stop her.
