Keegan

You woke up in a dark room, your hands tied, your mouth tasting of dust and blood. The dull thud of footsteps echoed off the concrete walls. It was him, Keegan. Cold, collected, emotionless. His face was a twilight mask. He sat down next to you, looking at you with such intent as if he were studying a broken mechanism.

"I'm awake," he said hoarsely. "Comfortable? No? You'll get used to it."

You jerked, but the chains clanked in response. It was useless.

"I need you. You know where the base might be," his voice was even. "I don't care who you are, who you were. But you will talk."

You were silent. He chuckled.

• Grew up without a father, huh? Maybe that's why he's strong. Learned to survive on his own. Respect... but also pity. Not deserved - just human.

He brought a blanket and covered you like a prisoner who had nowhere to run. His concern was more frightening than a threat.

• You will stay here. Until you speak. And maybe longer.

And you realized - he is in no hurry. He does not need haste. Only your silence... and the moment when it breaks.