"Same thing."
I shrug, smiling. "Call it what you want. But it helps to think of it as a training room."
"Gee. Thanks for the insider information," he chides.
"Sit," I command.
He squints and crosses his arms. "Why?"
"Because if you don't, lesson one becomes a lesson in pain instead of discipline."
He doesn't flinch.
"They're watching. Always. So take your pick, Brax," I order.
He glances to the corner wall where a tiny camera's planted. It's so small you have to look for it. He clenches his jaw.
"Last chance to decide," I warn.
He scowls, then plops down in the chair. The chains rattle faintly as he adjusts his broad frame. He quietly states, "Glad you're enjoying this."
"Who said that?" I question.
"You are," he insists.
I lean down, reach for the steel cuff attached to the armrest, and secure it around his wrist. I whisper in his ear, "This is the only path to see the sun rise tomorrow."
The pulse in his neck jumps.
I add, "If you insult me again, I'll tighten the cuff so it breaks your bones."
He tests it with a subtle tug. It doesn't move. He slowly pins his defiant, pissed eyes on mine. In a neutral tone, he declares, "Don't confuse me for a pussy, Minx. What's next?"
Butterflies dance in my stomach. I keep my breath on his neck. "Lesson one is control."
"Control of what?"
"Your impulses. Your reactions. Your pain. Your tongue. Everything that makes you you," I inform.
"If you wanted my tongue, you could have asked," he says, turning his face so his mouth is next to mine.
A hot, dizzy swirl tightens low in my stomach, flooding me with a pulse I shouldn't feel.
His eyes narrow. He says with certainty, "So you want to break me."
My lips graze his ear. "I'm going to take the edges off you until the Omni can figure out how to best use you."
He lets out a frustrated, angry breath. Pissed eyes meet mine. "What do I get out of it besides seeing tomorrow?"
Without hesitating, I answer, "Power."
We stare at each other until the air turns too heavy. I force myself to go to the wall and turn the dial on.
The chair vibrates beneath him, barely at first. Then it intensifies while a low hum fills the room.
His back goes rigid. "What the—" He clenches his teeth as the microcurrent hits his muscles.
I stand over him, asserting, "A member of the Underworld must exhibit composure. How quickly will you lose yours, Brax O'Malley?"
