TW: Mentions of torture, abuse, and suicidal tendencies.

A/N: Heyooo! I'm back with a spontaneous update! I hope y'all are ready for this lol.

So sorry for the delay, my summer was INSANE and it was just so overwhelming that I didn't find time to finish this chapter. But HERE WE ARE! UNDEFEATED! WE CONTINUE TO UPDATE! YEAH BOYYYYYY

Anyway, thank you all always for reading my book. I love each and every person who has taken the time to read it. Thank you infinitely.

Enjoy!

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"It is during our darkest moments that we must focus on the light."

NADINE

She didn't know how long it had been since she was captured. All she knew was that Jameson was growing impatient.

So far, none of his tests demonstrated that Nadine's survival was nothing more than sheer luck. Despite it, he remained convinced that the occurrence was a sign of Nadine's destiny to help him bend the world to his whim. His obsession was starting to cloud his judgement... and he moved on to physical tests.

The first one involved manipulating Nadine into attempting to escape. She'd been taken to her cell to recuperate from the shock therapy they'd given her, and in her delirious state, realized that there was only one guard posted at the entrance. She quickly disarmed the guard and broke free from her cell, bolting onto the hallway and running as fast as her trembling legs could take her.

When Nadine rounded the corner, she was surrounded... as much as she wanted to say she won the fight, she didn't.

Soon enough, she was back in her cell, panting as she struggled to breathe. She spat out blood, her nose and lip bleeding from the fight. She knew by the amount of pain she was in that she was bruised everywhere. Even old bruises probably had some bruises. Her hands ached. Her knuckles were swollen and bleeding and her shot thigh throbbed senselessly after someone punched it. And her head, her head was spinning. Whether from the electroshock therapy or the beatdown, she didn't know.

She didn't get enough time to rest before she was sent to take the next test. Nadine was strapped onto a chair, bent forward until her barely covered chest touched her knees, her chained arms lifted behind her in an excruciating angle, which made the pain on her body from her barely recovering injuries even worse. She was sprayed with cold water, the shock making her muscles tense even more than they already were.

It went on like that for... well, Nadine didn't know.

Now, she was strapped back into the lab chair. She was struggling to keep awake. Certain parts of her body would throb or flare up in pain. The most recent was coming from Nadine's fingers, a result of having her nails forcefully removed a few moments before.

The lady doctor came to insert the IV to keep her hydrated. She was assessing her wounds, but she made no effort to properly care for them, just enough to lessen the pain and keep her alive. Jameson would probably throw a fit if she let Nadine die.

"Please, kill me," she mumbled, her voice coarse, but it wasn't that part that surprised her. The words startled her. Here she was, pleading that this stranger kill her.

But she knew she was better off dead than the other outcome.

If the medic registered what she said, she made no recognition of it. She didn't even look at her, her olive-skinned hands mostly doing the acknowledgement that she existed as she bandaged her fingers. Nadine couldn't stop the hiss that escaped her lips every time she moved on to the next finger. The sensation of the exposed skin being touched by the rough texture of the gauze overwhelmed her with nausea.

"I am not pleased, Mira."

His rough voice felt like sandpaper grating against her ears.

Jameson seemingly appeared in front of her like a ghoul in the middle of the night. His mouth was formed in a disappointed frown, but his eyes didn't match the emotion. They were narrowed, staring at her like a hawk stalking its prey. He was angry. Once again, Nadine failed him.

She despised that a small part of her was disappointed as well.

"All of the tests that we have done so far show no signs of any abnormalities in your physiology," he said, his gaze drifting towards the doctor who was bandaging Nadine's fingers. When she finished with her left hand, Jameson motioned for her to exit the room. She looked at Nadine once. Nadine was too exhausted to even attempt to convince her to stay and half a beat later, she was out of the room. "Why do you think you've failed?"

"What?" she asked, though not really surprised he'd ask that. Of course it was Nadine's fault that his experiment was a failure.

"Come on," Jameson prodded, giving her the floor to talk. "You must have your own theories. I would like to know."

She stared at him. Whether from exhaustion or annoyance she didn't know, but she didn't utter a word. He seriously expected her to answer that, when all she could register was how much pain she was in, how much she hated his existence. "I think I'd rather be put out of my misery than to listen to you talk."

Jameson chuckled. Nadine's desire to die was a charming joke to him, it seemed. "Did I ever tell you about how the Ravenwood Academy was formed?"

She was too tired to glare at him for the stupid question. He knew she knew the story; it was part of her training. That's also why she never called it that and only liked to call it The Academy. A place like that shouldn't be remembered and should simply be forgotten from history. This whole conversation, he was just doing this out of spite, to get her riled up.

Unfortunately, it was working, or at least partly working.

"It was formed during World War I."

Here we go. The sermon she'd heard so many times.

"The U.S. Government originally designed it to train young adults for a special forces program with the goal to increase national security, you know this," he said giving her a nonchalant shrug, like they were two coworkers gossiping about the latest scandal in the workplace. "Eventually, my family decided it had a different use."

Nadine snorted. That was the understatement of the year. "You mean offering people to Hydra as lab rats paid more than the imperial country trying to pretend like they care about international security."

"Nadine," he chastised, shaking his head in like an irritated dad. She really despised how he tried to act like her father. She didn't know what was more torturous: Jameson trying to parent or the actual physical torture he's putting her through right now. "As I was saying. We had bigger plans, but The Ravenwood Academy really flourished because of The Red Room."

Her ears perked up at the mention of The Red Room. She knew what it was, who it belonged to and of course its most famous resident: Natasha. However, as far as she could remember, she never knew The Academy was connected to it. Unless Jameson was lying to her, which she had doubts about, this information was completely new. Also, seeing as Jameson had Russian heritage himself, Nadine felt a little stupid that she never even thought of a connection between the two organizations.

That being said, why was he bringing this up now? Why did he think she was going to care about this information? It's like he expected her to throw a tantrum.

"You're asking yourself why I brought it up. Well, Dear mama Romanoff never told you that," he muttered, raising his dark brows in mock surprise. "But I did. Because I like being honest with you, and you're old enough to understand the whole history now."

"Stop acting like you're my dad," she groaned. "Shooting myself would be less painful than this."

"I'm only trying to help you see the truth. Natasha Romanoff only saved you because she'd uncovered my alliance with Dreykov and knew that eventually you would want revenge and she could affect Dreykov's hold through me. She used you for her own gain."

"That's your angle?" Nadine said, snorting as she saw Jameson's eyes blazing with anger. He wasn't the only one who could rile someone up. "Natasha? You could do so much better."

He rolled his eyes. "And yet, the little wrinkle between your brows tells me a part of you wonders if I'm telling the truth."

She cursed herself for not being able to keep a straight face. Her nonchalance was cracking under pressure. "Even if that were true, I don't care. You needed to be stopped."

"And look where it brought you," he said, leaning forward so they were eye level. He reached towards her cheek, and his cracked skin sent another wave of nausea coursing through her. "Back into my arms again. My chaos bringer is home."

She spat at him.

Nadine knew it wasn't the best course of action, but she was growing weary of him acting like they were a family. It made her skin crawl and her heart race as she listened to his comments and felt like the little girl who was tortured physically, emotionally and mentally speaking. He wouldn't berate her like he did with his men. He would punish her like an angry, abusive father whenever she wasn't cooperating. So listening to him talk like that, like Nadine was a rebel child who finally came home, it was sickening.

She closed her eyes and waited for the slap to come, but it never did. When she opened her eyes again, Jameson was standing in front of a long, metal tray. On that tray were various weapons, ranging from blades to mallets. Her heart sank as she figured out what was coming.

"If I remember correctly, you're ambidextrous." He'd made a routine of picking up a knife and studying it as he spoke, almost as if he were analyzing which would help him make dinner faster. "You were good at shooting with both hands, but you were always just better with one side instead."

She tried keeping her gaze on nothing in particular to distract her mind, but the glint of a hammer demanded her attention once again. Jameson was holding it to taunt her. "I'd ask you which, but..." he shrugged. But what could she say that would appease him? Please don't hurt me? It was too late for that. Nothing Nadine could attempt would change his mind.

All she could do was pray he didn't remember it was her left hand.

Yes, she was ambidextrous, but when it came to shooting from a gun, her left eye was the dominant one, so she'd normally shoot with her left. All that wouldn't matter anymore, however, if he remembered.

He circled around her for a few seconds, before settling next to her right hand. He lifted a finger up, as if he were inspecting his medic's work. Nadine's heart was working overtime as the anticipation grew.

Please, don't remember.

"You brought this onto yourself, Mira," he muttered, lengthening the process just to drive her to the brink. She could feel the tears forming in her eyes as she started getting impatient. "Just remember, this could've been prevented if you were a bit more helpful."

He let go of her hand, walked downwards, and grabbed her leg, her right leg, and placed the hammer above her knee. She felt the tip of the weapon resting on top of her skin ominously, like it was waiting for her to beg for mercy. But she couldn't. Whether from exhaustion or numbness, she didn't know.

All Nadine could do was succumb to the pain and let her raw screams fill the room.