Undercover Hate

Chapter Fifteen

It wouldn't let me put the full chapter title (it was too long): 

Chapter Fifteen: I'm A Damsel, I'm In Distress, I Can Handle This. Have A Nice Day

(pls tell me someone understood the chapter title reference)

The van comes to an abrupt halt, its tires screeching against the cobblestones, jarring me back to reality. My heart races as the doors swing open, and I'm yanked out, the cold air hitting my face like a slap. I'm dragged from the van and thrown into a dark, dank tunnel that I can only assume leads to the sprawling labyrinth of the Louvre's underbelly.

The moment I hit the ground, pain radiates through my body, the harsh impact reminding me of the beating I took before being shoved into this wretched vehicle. As I scramble to my feet, the shadows envelop me, and I instinctively scan my surroundings, but nothing looks familiar. I wish I had at least remembered something about the Louvre tunnels—an escape route, a hidden chamber, anything—but my mind draws a blank.

The only thing I know is that I'm utterly alone.

"Welcome to our little hideaway," a voice taunts from behind me. I turn to find one of the enemy agents grinning wickedly, a glint of malice in his eyes. Before I can respond, he lunges at me, ripping my iPhone from my pocket and smashing it against the wall with a sickening crack.

"Oops," he says mockingly, stepping back to admire his handiwork as I stare in disbelief at the shattered remnants of my lifeline. A part of me is relieved I paid for iCloud—my photos, my notes, the few things that matter to me—all safe in the cloud. But the thought of having to pay for a new phone, especially after everything else, sends a wave of frustration washing over me.

"Where's Ace?" the agent demands, leaning closer, his breath hot against my face. I can see the impatience boiling beneath his cool exterior, and something instinctual urges me to protect Ace. I've already messed up by being reckless, but there's no way I'm giving him up.

"Like I'm telling you anything," I spit back defiantly, my voice a mixture of bravado and fear.

He smirks, then suddenly lunges, and I barely manage to dodge the first blow, adrenaline pumping through my veins. I won't go down without a fight. I throw punches and kick out wildly, but each attempt is met with brutal retaliation. They are trained for this—trained to break down anyone who stands in their way.

My fists make contact a few times, but I quickly realize how outmatched I am. Each strike to my body feels like a jab of a knife, and soon my energy wanes as they deliver blow after blow, taunting me as they take pleasure in my pain.

"Where is he?" another agent snarls, grabbing me by my hair and yanking my head back. I can feel the tears prickling at the corners of my eyes, but I refuse to let them fall. I can't show weakness. Not now. Not when I have to hold my ground.

"Go to hell!" I scream, though the bravado is starting to falter.

With one final kick, I manage to break free, sprinting down the corridor of tunnels, the echoes of my footsteps bouncing off the damp walls. I'm running blindly, adrenaline coursing through me, but I have no idea where I'm going. The darkness swallows me, and I find myself lost within the intricate maze of the Louvre's underbelly.

Every turn seems to lead to more shadows, more uncertainty, and I can feel the exhaustion creeping in. I push myself harder, trying to ignore the pain that shoots through my body with every step, but I'm running on fumes. I'm definitely lost.

Suddenly, a sharp pain lances through my side as an agent catches up to me, tackling me to the ground. I gasp as the air leaves my lungs, and for a moment, all I can do is try to breathe through the agony. They beat me again, their laughter echoing in the dark as I struggle to rise. My body is screaming at me to give in, to accept the defeat that looms ever closer.