Page 36 of UNAwere

‘I don’t…’ I can’t tell her the truth. To do so would betray everyone I know. ‘I don’t know.’

‘You’re lying.’

The pain roars through my nerves. Simmering my blood. Tearing my flesh, grinding my bones. I moan, tears slipping down my cheeks. Electrodes. They’re stuck to me, everywhere. I’m being electrocuted.

Also not on my bingo card for today.

‘I’m not.’

More pain.

It gives out, long enough for me to collapse in the chair, desperate to catch my breath.

‘Tell me what you know about the alliance between Primrose and Luminaire,’ Lucia demands.

‘I don’t know—’

Pain again. Blinding. Tearing through me. My spine arches and I whimper, pleading with her.

‘It’ll end as soon as you answer me,’ Lucia says.

‘Please. Please. I don’t know. Please. Let me go.’ I’m rambling. My brain is fried. I can’t keep doing this. I want to die. ‘Please.’

‘Paula, get the pliers.’

‘No, please, I don’t know anything. You have to believe me.’

‘You do know something. You’re with Warner’s bodyguard for a reason. So tell me.’

Cool metal presses against my fingertips. I try to curl my fingers, but they’re held down tight. Something clamps against my nail, and I scream.

‘Tell me,’ Lucia says. ‘Or I’ll rip your nails out, one by one.’

‘No, please.’ I gasp, sobbing.

The pliers tighten, and I howl.

‘Lucia!’ Someone’s clamouring down the stairs to the basement. ‘Lucia, we need to go!’

‘What is it?’ the old woman asks.

‘That Primrose guard. He’s already torn through our scouts. He’s coming, and it doesn’t look like anything’s stopping him.’

‘You were meant to lose his scent!’ Lucia growls at the pair behind me.

‘We did!’ Brady defends.

‘You imbeciles!’

The pliers fall from my finger, and I let out a pitiful gasp. They run up the stairs, leaving me behind. I hear a commotion, and someone screams, but I’m slumped in the chair, unable to move, edging close to unconsciousness.

I’m sobbing, snot and tears trailing down my face.

I want to go home.

Something howls. Whines. There’s a thumping of feet on the stairs, and I lift my head a fraction, too weak to open my eyes properly.

‘Oh, Sybbie.’ Someone takes my face in their hands. ‘Oh, sweetheart, I’m here. It’s okay. You’re okay. I’m here.’