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Diego leaned against the wall ahead and to my right, a smug curve to his mouth as though he enjoyed the view far too much.

Isabella scrutinized me and clicked her tongue.

“Look at you. Filthy. Sweaty. Hair matted to your head. You look like a mangy dog someone dragged in off the street.”

“At least the filth on me washes off. Yours bought the clothes on your back. You sell girls to monsters, crawl into Ciro’s bed, and think that your pretend uniform hides the stink.”

Her smile thinned.

“Mateo. Bring me the bucket.”

The man near the worktable moved farther behind me out of sight. Metal scraped the concrete, and then a faucet opened behind me.

Every muscle across my back locked as water rushed into the bucket. The damn thing seemed to take forever to fill. I tried to breathe normally, but my lungs were already pulling in deeper breaths without permission.

“Look at him,” she said. “Our stubborn mutt recognizes the game.”

The faucet shut off.

Mateo carried a utility bucket into view and set it on a crate between my knees. Water sloshed over the rim and darkened my pants.

My throat burned at the sight of it. After hours without water, every instinct screamed at me to drink, but they hadn’t filled it to quench my thirst.

Pedro crouched beside the chair with a ratchet and backed the bolts out of the floor anchors, one leg at a time. Metal clicked against concrete before he tossed the tool aside, stood, and grabbed my hair again.

Diego took hold of the chair’s back while Mateo braced one heavy boot against the lower frame.

The chair tipped forward.

Cold water closed over my face.

For the first few seconds, the cold offered a twisted kind of relief, washing away the heat and sweat. I held my breath and counted heartbeats while the water pressed against my ears and reduced everything around me to a muffled throb.

One.

Two.

Three.

Pedro’s fist remained locked in my hair, holding me down.

My lungs began to burn.

I kept counting.

The first spasm hit low in my chest. My diaphragm clenched, demanding air that wasn’t there. I tried to force myself back under control, but the command to breathe drowned out every other thought.

My heartbeat pounded inside my skull.

Air.

My world narrowed to that one need.

My chest tried to expand against the water. Panic ripped through the discipline I’d spent years building, taking control of my muscles. The chair jumped beneath me as I fought the cuffs and kicked against the restraints around my ankles.

Pedro dragged me up.

I gasped, but only half a breath reached my lungs before he shoved me under again.