Kaelen’s head slammed into the floor, his arms twisted painfully behind his back as they dragged him through the hallway. He could hear Lyrian’s grunts of pain nearby, but there was nothing he could do. His vision swam, but the brutality of the situation kept him conscious. They were being hauled out of his room like cargo, limbs jerked and wrists restrained so tightly he could barely feel his hands anymore. The thudding sound of boots on concrete filled the air, mixed with low, muttered curses from their captors.


    "Get them in the vans," one of the masked figures barked, and Kaelen’s world turned upside down again as he was yanked to his feet.


    “Watch it!” Kaelen hissed as his shoulder collided with the doorframe on their way out. The reply was a brutal shove that sent him staggering toward the waiting vehicle. A hood was yanked over his head before he could get a clear look at the faces of the attackers, the rough fabric tightening uncomfortably around his neck.


    Lyrian''s voice cut through the chaos, his usual sarcasm giving way to anger. “Is this really necessary? Because I’ve gotta say, you’re making a terrible impression.”


    A sharp crack rang out, followed by a grunt of pain from Lyrian. "Shut up," one of the captors growled.


    Kaelen tensed, trying to fight the restraints holding him, but another blow landed squarely on his ribs, forcing him to double over in pain.


    They were tossed into separate vans, Kaelen feeling the cold metal floor under him as he was shoved inside. His arms were pinned painfully behind his back, and every breath felt like fire. He struggled, earning himself another harsh hit to the side of the head.


    “Stop fighting,” a gruff voice warned, the man above him pressing something hard into Kaelen’s back—a gun, maybe? He couldn’t see through the hood, couldn’t hear anything but the muffled sounds of the city fading as the door slammed shut behind him.


    “Why are you doing this?” Kaelen growled, trying to push himself up despite the sharp pain that pulsed through his side. “What do you want?”


    The reply was a chilling laugh, low and cold. “Oh, you’ll find out soon enough.”


    The vans jerked to a stop sometime later, the scent of oil and sweat filling the confined space. The doors flew open, and Kaelen was yanked out with brutal efficiency. His knees hit the gravel, sending sharp jolts of pain up his legs, but he didn’t have time to react before rough hands dragged him back up.


    “Kaelen! You good?” Lyrian’s voice came from nearby, frantic and strained.


    “Still breathing, if that counts for anything,” Kaelen muttered, his voice muffled by the hood. "You?"


    “Been better,” Lyrian groaned, followed by the sound of a scuffle as their captors restrained him again. “This day just keeps getting better, doesn’t it?”


    They were both hauled forward, barely able to keep their footing. Kaelen’s mind raced, trying to make sense of the situation, but nothing added up. Whoever had taken them knew what they were doing, and they weren’t interested in giving answers.


    The hood was ripped off, the sudden light stinging Kaelen’s eyes. His vision blurred before the world came into focus—a grim warehouse, dimly lit, with armed guards posted at every entrance. They were shoved into chairs, bound with thick ropes, the cold steel biting into their wrists.


    Lyrian glanced over.


    "Well, at least they didn’t tie us up back-to-back. Could’ve been awkward."


    Kaelen snorted, wincing at the sharp pain that followed. "Yeah, real considerate of them."


    His gaze flicked around the room, trying to find anything that could give them a clue about where they were or what was coming next.


    The two were bound to metal chairs in the same room, only a few feet apart. Kaelen could hear Lyrian breathing heavily, clearly working through the same thoughts—anger, confusion, and a growing sense of dread. He could feel it too. The tension in the air, the way their captors seemed to be waiting for something. Something neither of them wanted to face.


    “You think they’ll tell us what this is about?”


    Kaelen’s jaw clenched. “I doubt they brought us here for small talk.”


    Suddenly, a door at the far end of the room creaked open. A figure stepped in, his face hidden in the shadows, but Kaelen could feel his gaze locked on him. The air grew colder, the room stilled.


    “Finally!” the figure said.“Let’s begin.”


    Kaelen’s pulse quickened, but he forced himself to keep his breathing steady, his mind already calculating the potential outcomes. Beside him, Lyrian shifted slightly, trying to test the limits of the ropes binding his wrists, but they were too tight.


    The man approached slowly, his boots echoing on the concrete floor. His presence alone seemed to suck the air out of the room, filling the space with a cold, suffocating tension. He finally stopped just out of reach, his face still hidden by the shadows, but Kaelen could make out the gleam of metal—a gun holstered at his side.


    “Comfortable?” the man asked almost polite.


    Kaelen glared up at him, blood still trickling from a split in his lip. “Yeah. Feels just like home.”


    The man chuckled softly. “I thought you might feel that way. But let me assure you, this is far from over.”


    Lyrian groaned, shifting in his seat, his voice laced with irritation. “Look, I’m not really into this whole vague-threats thing. Can we just skip to the part where you tell us what you want?”


    The man’s head tilted slightly, as if amused by Lyrian’s attempt at bravado. He moved closer, finally stepping into the light. His face was broad and weathered, the skin leathery from years spent under harsh suns and biting winds. A jagged scar ran from his temple to his jaw, faded but unmistakable, a testament to countless battles.


    “In due time, you''ll understand.” He gestured to one of the guards nearby, who stepped forward, brandishing a syringe filled with a thick, dark liquid.


    Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    Kaelen’s muscles tensed, instinctively pulling against the ropes. "What the hell is that?"


    The man ignored the question, his gaze fixed on Lyrian. “We have ways of making people talk, but I prefer methods that are… quicker.”


    The guard approached Lyrian first, grabbing his arm. Lyrian tried to jerk away, but with his wrists bound, there was little he could do. His eyes met Kaelen’s briefly—fear flashing through them for just a moment before the bravado returned.


    Kaelen growled, his voice low. "Touch him, and you’ll regret it."


    The man’s lips curled into a thin smile. “I don’t think you’re in any position to make threats, Kaelen.”


    Before Kaelen could respond, the syringe plunged into Lyrian’s arm. Lyrian tensed, a sharp hiss of pain escaping his lips. His breathing quickened, his muscles trembling as the liquid entered his bloodstream.


    “Lyrian!” Kaelen strained against the ropes, his mind racing. He knew these kinds of substances—they were meant to break people, to twist their minds until they became pliable, until every secret they held spilled out.


    Lyrian gasped, his head snapping back as the effects began to take hold. His voice trembled as he tried to speak. “Kaelen… I’m… fine.”


    But Kaelen could see the pain written across his friend’s face, the way his body convulsed slightly, as if fighting against something inside him.


    “Don’t worry,” the man said softly. “It won’t kill him. Not yet. But he’ll be feeling it for a while.”


    Kaelen’s jaw clenched, his mind frantically searching for a way out of this. But the ropes were too tight, and the guards were too close. He couldn’t do anything—at least, not yet.


    “We’re done for now,” the man finally said, stepping back into the shadows. “Let’s see how talkative you both feel when I return.”


    As he left, the room fell into a heavy silence. Kaelen’s breathing slowed, his eyes never leaving Lyrian, who slumped in the chair, his head hanging low.


    "Lyrian...?"


    Kaelen strained against the ropes again, but they didn’t budge.


    Lyrian stirred, his breath ragged. "Still... here," he managed to mutter, though his voice was weaker now.


    "Yeah, well, try to stay that way.”


    Despite everything, the weight of fear was creeping into the edges of his mind. They were in deeper trouble than they’d ever been before—and this time, there was no easy way out.


    Kaelen continued to watch Lyrian, his muscles tensing with every pained breath his friend took. He fought the urge to move, but with each small struggle, the ropes held firm, and any chance to break free seemed impossible. He cursed under his breath, his mind racing for a way out.


    “Lyrian, you still with me?”


    Lyrian groaned in response, his body slumping further in the chair. His breathing was labored, but he managed a weak chuckle. “Define... with you. I’m feeling more like... a pin cushion right now.”


    Kaelen let out a sharp breath, trying to mask the worry in his tone. “Well, you’ve looked worse. You remember that time in Terrin’s Outpost? At least this time, you’re not covered in mud.”


    Lyrian huffed out a shaky laugh. “And here I thought you liked the rugged look.”


    Kaelen smirked, though the weight of the situation pressed down on him. “I’ve always preferred the blood and bruises. Brings out your eyes.”


    Another weak chuckle from Lyrian, but it quickly faded into a pained groan. Kaelen’s jaw tightened.


    “We’ll get out of this. But I need you to stay awake, alright? Don’t check out on me now.”


    Lyrian coughed, the sound rough. “Yeah... well... no promises.”


    The door creaked open once more, cutting through the tension. Kaelen’s head snapped up as the same man from before stepped in, followed by another figure—this one taller, cloaked in a long, dark coat that brushed the ground as they walked. Their face remained hidden in shadow, but Kaelen could feel their gaze settling on him again.


    “Good,” the scarred captor murmured. “I was hoping you two would still be conscious.”


    Kaelen’s eyes darted between them, trying to assess the situation. The second figure finally spoke, his voice cold and smooth. “You’ve been difficult to track down, Kaelen.”


    Kaelen didn’t flinch. “Seems like you’ve got me now. What do you want?”


    The figure stepped closer, his presence chilling the air around them. “Oh, it’s not about what I want. It’s about what you’re going to give me.”


    Kaelen’s brow furrowed. “You’ve got the wrong person. I don’t have anything for you.”


    The figure chuckled darkly. “You have something far more valuable than you realize. And your friend here... well, he’s got something I need too, but let’s just say he’s mostly leverage.”


    Kaelen’s hands curled into fists beneath the ropes, biting into his skin. “If you hurt him—”


    “You’re not in a position to make demands,” the figure interrupted smoothly. “But don’t worry, Kaelen. I’m not here to kill either of you. Not yet, anyway. I just need you to cooperate.”


    “What exactly do you think I can give you?”


    “It won’t be long before you see for yourself.”


    The figure with the scarred face took a step forward, looming over Lyrian, who was barely holding himself upright in the chair. “You can make this easier, you know. We don’t have to keep going like this.”


    Lyrian forced a weak grin, though it was clear the serum was doing its job. “And here I thought... you were starting to enjoy yourself.”


    The man chuckled darkly. “I’ve dealt with plenty like you. Your defiance doesn’t impress me.” His gaze flicked to Kaelen, and there was something cold, predatory in the way his eyes lingered. “But you? You’re the one who interests me the most.”


    "Yeah, I''m flattered. Now, what exactly do you want?"


    The man circled slowly, his boots echoing across the concrete floor. "You’re not as ignorant as you want us to believe. I can see it. The question is whether you’re aware of what’s inside you. Of who you are."


    Kaelen’s stomach turned, but he kept his expression carefully neutral. He had spent most of his life trying to outrun those questions, to bury any suspicions about what made him different. The fact that these people were here, in front of him, confirming what he had feared only made the situation worse.


    But now there was something else. How did they know? He had been careful, so careful to keep his past buried. His mind raced, trying to piece together how these strangers could possibly know about his heritage. It didn’t make sense. He hadn’t told anyone, and no one close to him had ever hinted at knowing. So, where had they gotten their information?


    A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly masked by the neutral expression he had perfected over the years. But deep down, the shock lingered. They knew something, maybe even more than he did, and that terrified him more than anything.


    Before Kaelen could respond, the man turned sharply toward Lyrian. “And then there’s your friend here. He has something we need, too. Information. His family’s legacy holds certain... keys. Something you’ve both been hiding for a while.”


    Lyrian, despite the pain, managed a smirk. "If you think my parents told me anything useful, then you clearly didn’t know them. Or me."


    “We’ll see about that.”


    He nodded to one of his subordinates, who approached with another syringe, this one filled with the same dark liquid. Lyrian tensed, his body already shaking from the first dose.


    “Don’t,” Kaelen growled, struggling once again against the ropes. "He doesn’t know anything. You’re wasting your time."


    The man crouched down, getting on eye level with Kaelen. “Oh, I’m sure he knows more than he’s letting on. But the thing is... you can only hide the truth for so long. Everyone breaks eventually. And when he does, you’ll be here to watch.”


    The second syringe was plunged into Lyrian’s arm, and Kaelen could only watch as his friend gasped, his body arching in pain as the serum took hold again.


    “You’ll get nothing,” Lyrian spat through gritted teeth, his voice shaking. "Whatever you think you''re after, good luck finding it."


    The captor stood back up, clearly unfazed by Lyrian’s resistance. “You’re resilient, I’ll give you that. But your body can only handle so much.”


    Kaelen’s eyes flicked between Lyrian and the captor, his heart pounding with fury and helplessness. “You’re making a mistake!”


    The man glanced at him, his eyes cold. "Maybe. But if he doesn’t give us what we need, I have other ways to get it."


    Without missing a beat, the captor stepped aside, allowing the taller figure to take center stage. “They’re secure. We’re ready to proceed.”


    The hooded figure took a few slow steps forward, surveying both Kaelen and Lyrian. "Good. But remember, we need him alive. For now."


    The captor nodded, his gaze returning to Kaelen with an unsettling intensity.


    “Don’t worry. We have plans for both of you. And when we’re done, you’ll be begging to know your place in this world.”