The Rain (Book 3 - The Evolving)

Chapter 1 - Doigts et nouveaux dirigeants

"Alright," She sighed in frustration. She placed her pen down on the table, purposely avoiding the blood, fingers and teeth. She lifted her gaze from the paper on her lap and sent Nate a glare. "I'm not going to ask you again." She warned, grinding her teeth together. She took a deep breath and spoke the question once again. "What's your name?"

Nate clenched his jaw, his fists balled until he felt his nails digging into the skin of his palms. His lips twitched as he watched her face fall yet again. His eyes sparkled playfully, he sniffed and shook his head.

She sat back in the chair and chuckled dryly at his response. She pursed her lips and nodded, knowing that he was one of the stubborn ones, she also knew that in a few moments, he'd be broken. She took a breath and released the air, she looked up from under her lashes and smiled at him.

"Okay, so that's how you want to play it." She whispered. The chair scraped across the ground as she shot up, holding the paper in one hand and the pen in the other. She wiped down her skirt and sent Nate one last look before walking out.

The door slammed behind her and Nate's facade fell. His shoulders sagged and his hands opened up, pressing his fingers flat against the table. He stared at the brick wall ahead of him.

He gave up on trying to escape, there was no way that he was getting out of the restraints. His raw wrists were proof of that, the leather was digging into his skin causing the black material to be tinted slightly red with his blood.

He changed his game-plan. What would Courtney do? He asked himself as soon as the woman had walked in. Courtney wouldn't show any emotion. She wouldn't talk or give anything away. She'd glare and hope that that would be enough.

It was no more than one minute before the door was open again. Two men walked through the thick, rusted door. Nate threw his mask back on. His eyes narrowed, his posture brave and strong.

The men didn't spare him a glance. They walked around him and cleaned the table. They picked up the teeth and fingers like as if they'd done it a million times before.

They were both tall, both wearing dark colours and both had guns either hanging across their backs or holstered by their sides.

The bald man threw the fingers and teeth into a bucket. Nate visibly flinched at the sound of them hitting the plastic. The man didn't. He walked away and left the room.

While the other man wiped down the table, Nate took this as his chance to scan his surroundings beyond the room.

The bald man with the bucket was gone. Nate looked down the never ending hall. It was dark, only lit by swinging bulbs from the ceiling that flickered every so often. There were doors, much like his, lining the walls of the hall. At the very end of the hall was a set of brick stairs that seemed to lead into darkness.

That was his way out.

Just as hope filled his body, it vanished when he heard the wails. His head perked up at the sound of voices. Not just any voices, voices in pain. They were screaming, yelling for help. Their cries slithered through their doors and rushed down the hall, straight towards Nate.

He wasn't alone. There were more people here, wherever 'here' was.

The man left, slamming the door behind him. Nate was left in the silence once again. He looked down to the table, his hair falling down from behind his ear and brushing over his shoulder. The table was clean and Nate could see now.

He could see the scratches engraved into the metal. The claw marks of people before him as they tried to rip their way out. He ran his fingertips over them, feeling the course metal as he followed a line.