THE MIDDLE OF NOWHERE

CHAPTER 14

Chloe’s POV

The moment the officer told us to strip, I knew I wasn’t going to make it easy for them.

“Take off your clothes,” he barked again, his voice grating like nails on steel.

I crossed my arms over my chest and stood my ground. I wasn’t about to let them humiliate me in front of all these strangers. “I’m not putting on a strip show for you or anyone else.”

He barely even reacted, like he’d heard this all before. “You have five minutes. Anyone who isn’t ready by then will be punished.”

“Punished?” I spat. “For what? Having self-respect?”

No answer. He didn’t even glance in my direction, just kept barking orders at everyone else. People were already pulling off their clothes, heads bowed, their shame filling the air like a thick fog. My stomach churned, but I held my position.

Time seemed to crawl, but before I knew it, the officer growled, “Times up. Take her away.”

I felt hands on me—strong, unyielding. I struggled, kicking out and yelling, but it didn’t matter. They dragged me toward a door opposite the rest of the group.

“Get your hands off me! I have rights!” I shouted, my voice echoing down the cold steel corridors.

The officer leading the way chuckled darkly. “Rights? Let’s see how much you care about those in a few hours.”

I bit back a retort as they pushed me through another door and into... I don’t even know what to call it. Hell? Torture chamber? The room was a box of solid metal, the air heavy and suffocating.

At first, I thought the stillness was the punishment, but then the temperature hit.

It started off blazing hot, like standing too close to an open flame. Sweat poured down my face, and my breathing became shallow. I paced the small space, desperate to find a cool corner, but there was nothing. The walls, the floor, the air—it all burned.

Just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, the heat vanished.

For a second, I thought it was over, but the cold hit like a sledgehammer. My body convulsed, my teeth chattering so hard I thought they might crack. I sank to the floor, hugging my knees to my chest, my breaths coming out in little white puffs.

It went on like that for hours. Heat. Cold. Heat. Cold. My skin felt raw from the extremes, my head pounding, my body too exhausted to fight anymore.

Then the door opened again, and they threw someone else inside.

I didn’t look up at first. What was the point? Another poor soul to share this misery. But then I heard him curse softly, his voice carrying an edge of defiance even through his exhaustion.

“Great. Just what I needed,” he muttered, his voice laced with sarcasm.

I glanced up and saw him—a tall guy with dark slightly unkempt hair that brushed against his ears and a lean, wiry build, he looked out of place among the hardened criminals here. His posture wasn’t slouched like the rest of us, and his face, though marked by exhaustion, had sharp features: a defined jawline, high cheekbones, and piercing gray eyes that scanned the room with an unsettling calmness. It was like he didn’t belong here.

“What is this place?” he asked, more to himself than to me.

“Hell,” I answered flatly, my voice hoarse.

He turned toward me, his eyes narrowing as if sizing me up. “You’re the one who refused to strip, right?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t need to.

“You’ve got guts,” he said, almost like a compliment. “Not sure it was worth it, though.”

I rolled my eyes and turned away. I wasn’t in the mood for small talk.

The shifts started again—scorching heat followed by freezing cold. He cursed under his breath during the heat and shivered violently during the cold. For a while, we sat in our own misery, the silence broken only by the hum of the air vents.

Then, during one of the freezing cycles, he spoke again. “Hey.”

I glanced at him, too cold to muster much more than a glare. “What?”

“We’ll freeze to death like this,” he said, his teeth chattering.

“No kidding,” I muttered, wrapping my arms tighter around myself.

He hesitated. “We should stick together. Share body heat.”

I snorted. “You’re serious?”

He gave me a look. “Do I look like I’m joking?”

I wanted to argue, but my body was too numb to care. And, honestly, he wasn’t wrong. Survival instincts won out over pride. I crawled closer, keeping my movements slow and deliberate.

“This doesn’t mean I like you,” I muttered as I settled beside him.

“Noted,” he said, shifting slightly to make room.

For a while, we sat in silence, our combined warmth a small comfort in the freezing room.

“What’s your name?” he asked after a while.

“Chloe,” I said, my voice still guarded.

“Liam,” he offered.

I froze for a moment, the name triggering recognition. “I know who you are. The infamous emerald thief.”

He sighed. “I didn’t steal it.”

“Sure,” I said, though my tone lacked the bite it usually carried.

The heat came back, forcing us apart. We sat on opposite sides of the room, sweat pouring off us as the temperature climbed.

“I can’t take much more of this,” I admitted, wiping at my forehead.

“You’ve been here longer than me,” he said. “How do you keep going?”

“You don’t,” I said flatly. “You just... exist.”

“Not me,” he said firmly. “I have to get out of here.”

I glanced at him, his determination almost laughable. “You’re not the first to think that. This place kills hope, Liam. If you hold onto it too tightly, it’ll destroy you.”

“Well, I don’t have much else to hold onto,” he said, clenching his fists.

Something about his stubbornness struck a chord. Despite myself, I found a flicker of admiration for him. “You’re either the dumbest person I’ve met,” I said, “or the bravest.”

“Maybe both,” he said with a small grin.

As the cycles continued, his resolve didn’t waver. He started talking about plans, about escape, and for the first time in a long time, I felt a spark of something I thought I’d lost: hope.

“If you’re going to fight,” I said eventually, “I’ll fight with you. But we’re going to need more than just hope to pull this off.”

“Then let’s start planning,” he said.

And for the first time since I arrived in this hellhole, I let myself believe that maybe—just maybe—we had a chance.