Echoes In the Abyss

4 |The Cost Of Silence|

~Perseus Pov.

Three days have elapsed since I captured Appolyn, and the tension in my office is palpable.

Appolyn sits in a stark, dimly lit room, the single overhead light casting harsh shadows that accentuate his battered form.

He is restrained to a steel chair, his arms and legs bound with sturdy leather straps. His face is a mosaic of bruises, cuts, and the residue of my relentless methods to force information from him. The room is sterile and cold, a metal table laden with tools designed to break will and spirit.

I approach Appolyn with deliberate steps, the muted thud of my shoes against the concrete floor, a grim accompaniment to the silence.

My gaze is steady, my expression unyielding. Appolyn's eyes, despite the pain, sparkle with a mix of defiance and something almost like amusement.

"Still playing the silent game, Appolyn?" I ask, my voice deliberately controlled, concealing the frustration that churns beneath the surface. I pick up a pair of pliers, their metallic gleam catching the light.

Appolyn meets my gaze with a defiant smirk. "Oh, I'm talking. I'm just not telling you what you want to hear."

I tighten my grip on the pliers, applying them to Appolyn's fingers with deliberate pressure. The sound of his bones bending and cracking under the strain fills the room, mingling with his low, pained groans. Sweat beads on his forehead, mingling with the blood that stains his clothes.

"Who's behind this operation?" I demand, leaning closer, my voice cold and dangerous. "Who are you working for?"

Appolyn winces but manages to maintain his smirk. "Nice try, but I'd rather give away my grandma's secret cookie recipe."

I increase the pressure on the pliers, feeling the crunch of his bones beneath the metal. Appolyn defiance remains, though his body betrays him with involuntary shudders. "You really think that's going to help you?" I ask, my tone a mix of menace and disbelief.

How can one be so calm in this situation.

Appolyn's eyes narrow, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Well, it's a lot more entertaining than your usual threats."

I switch to a heated metal rod, pressing it against his bare skin. The rod hisses as it makes contact, and his body arches against the restraints. The smell of burning flesh fills the room, a stark reminder of the price he's paying for his silence.

"Ready to talk yet?" I ask, my voice a cold whisper.

Appolyn forces out a strained chuckle. "You're getting creative, I'll give you that. But I'm still not budging."

I apply the rod in a series of precise, painful touches, making sure each burn is excruciating but not fatal. Appolyn 's face contorts with pain, but he still manages a defiant glare. "What's next?" he croaks. "A tickle torture?"

Hours pass, and Appolyn's condition worsens. His body is a testament to the severity of my methods, but his spirit remains unbroken. Despite his physical suffering, his cheekiness is a constant irritant.

Nicholas bursts into the room, his expression grim. "Boss, we've got a situation."

I turn, my patience wearing thin. "What now?" Running my palm down my face frustrated.