“Let you go?” Vera echoed softly, her tone almost amused, as if Isabelle had just made a naive suggestion. She took a step forward, her imposing presence making Isabelle instinctively lean back despite her lack of limbs to move away. “You think you’ve given me enough?” Vera’s voice was dangerously calm, her eyes never leaving Isabelle’s. “I decide what’s enough.”

  Isabelle’s heart pounded, and she fought to keep her composure. She knew she was treading on thin ice, but she couldn’t allow herself to remain silent any longer. “I-I’ve told you everything I know,” she stammered, trying to sound convincing. “We were sent here to do reconnaissance—”

  “You’re lying,” Vera interrupted, her voice hardening. The coldness in her tone sent a chill down Isabelle’s spine. “And you know what happens to liars, don’t you?” Vera’s words hung in the air like a threat, the silence amplifying the dread.

  Flint, who had been standing nearby, shifted slightly, his eyes fixed on Isabelle with mild interest. It was clear that he was waiting for Vera’s next move, ready to follow her lead without question.

  Vera glanced at Flint briefly, then back to Isabelle. “A Colonel, sent across the world with three other Awakened, and you expect me to believe you were just here on a reconnaissance mission?” she asked, her voice dripping with skepticism. “You’re either incredibly foolish or think I am.”

  Isabelle clenched her jaw, her breath quickening. Her mind raced, trying to come up with a plausible lie or another way to bargain for their lives. But the situation felt hopeless—every word, every hesitation, only seemed to draw Vera’s suspicion closer to the truth.

  “You haven’t given me a reason to believe you yet,” Vera continued, leaning down slightly, her gaze piercing into Isabelle’s eyes. “So here’s what’s going to happen: you’re going to tell me what your true mission is, and you’re going to be honest. If you don’t, I’ll have Flint start with your comrades. And trust me, he won’t be as gentle as I’ve been.”

  “No!” Isabelle blurted out, her voice trembling. “No, don’t—” She tried to raise her arms in a futile, instinctive gesture, but her stumps only emphasized her helplessness. Tears stung at her eyes, and she bit her lip, trying to keep from breaking down completely.

  Vera’s expression remained cold and calculating. She had no intention of letting these spies go, but she needed more information, and she knew Isabelle was reaching her breaking point.

  “Last chance, Isabelle,” Vera warned, her voice low and unwavering. “Tell me your mission, or watch your comrades suffer.”

  Isabelle’s breathing was ragged, her eyes darting between Vera and her unconscious friends. She knew the threat wasn’t an empty one, and in her state, she couldn’t even imagine what Vera and Flint were capable of. She felt the crushing weight of the decision pressing down on her, realizing that withholding information would only prolong their suffering.

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  But despite everything, a small part of her still clung to the hope of defiance, of holding on to her integrity and loyalty to her country. And yet, faced with the reality of Vera’s cruelty, that hope seemed like a distant dream.

  “Please…” she whispered, her voice breaking. “Don’t hurt them.”

  “Then talk,” Vera demanded, her patience wearing thin. “Why were you sent here?”

  Isabelle closed her eyes, the tears slipping down her cheeks. Her lips quivered as she struggled to find the words, caught between her loyalty and the terror of what would happen if she refused.

  Isabelle’s voice trembled as she finally relented, the weight of her circumstances pressing down on her. “Our General sent us to spread the Curse of Hades.” Her tone was heavy, each word drenched in resignation and defeat.

  “Curse… of Hades?” Vera echoed, her curiosity piqued but laced with apprehension.

  Isabelle grimaced and tilted her head slightly to indicate that something was amiss on her stomach. Vera’s eyes narrowed as she caught sight of the orange glow emanating from beneath Isabelle's shirt. With a swift motion, she lifted the fabric, revealing a pulsating mark the size of a fist on the right side of Isabelle's abdomen. It glowed ominously, its hue reminiscent of molten lava, casting eerie shadows on her skin.

  “Check the others!” Vera commanded, her voice sharp and urgent. Flint and 433 moved quickly, each lifting Bishop and Layla's shirts. They each bore identical marks, glowing fiercely on their abdomens, a synchronized testament to their grim fate.

  Vera’s heart raced as the implications sank in. “We… we have to report back to the Boss… IMMEDIATELY!” The urgency in her voice turned into a shout, cutting through the tension in the room.

  “I-I’ll go and report this,” Flint stammered, his expression reflecting the gravity of the situation. He turned to 433, who was still processing the horror of their discovery. “You stay here in case something else happens,” Flint instructed, his eyes locking with 433's to convey the seriousness of the task at hand.

  433 nodded, determination flooding his veins despite the dire situation. Flint didn’t hesitate; he took off, sprinting down the corridor with a sense of urgency that reverberated in the air. The echo of his footsteps faded, leaving 433 alone with the chilling realization of what the Curse of Hades might entail.

  “What does the Curse do!?” Vera screamed, her voice piercing through the tension in the air.

  In a fit of desperation, she shook Isabelle's body fiercely, demanding answers. After what felt like an eternity, Isabelle finally gasped out, “It connects you to death itself. Once you’re marked, you can’t escape him.”

  “Who’s him? Do you mean Hades?” Vera pressed, her heart racing as dread settled in.

  Before Isabelle could muster a response, the mark on her abdomen began to pulse ominously, a rhythmic thrum that resonated with otherworldly energy. 433, ever alert, noticed the unsettling change before Vera did. “Look, the mark is pulsing!” he exclaimed, a sense of urgency coloring his tone.

  Vera’s eyes widened as she finally caught sight of the glowing mark. “Oh, I see. We should get away… I don’t want to get whatever the fuck that is.” Just as she finished her sentence, both Bishop and Layla's marks began to pulse in unison, a synchronized beacon of impending doom.

  “T-this looks bad... We should run!” Vera stammered, her instincts kicking into overdrive. Before she could finish, she was already sprinting toward the exit, and 433 followed closely, adrenaline surging through him. They dashed through the dark, labyrinthine corridors, the sensation of death looming over them, growing heavier with every step.

  “Faster! Jump out of the window!” Vera shouted, her voice filled with urgency as she pointed to a window on their right.

  Without hesitation, 433 and Vera raced toward the opening, their hearts pounding in their chests. They leaped through the glass, the world blurring around them. They were still on the fifth floor; the fall hit hard, jarring their bodies as they landed. The impact knocked the breath from their lungs, but the adrenaline coursing through their veins drowned out any pain. They rolled and sprang back to their feet, continuing their frantic escape.

  After what felt like an eternity of sprinting, the suffocating sense of death began to dissipate. They slowed to a jog, hearts racing, but their breaths started to steady. Just as they began to relax, a cacophony of horrified screams