Four weeks later . . .

Balakovo, Russia:

I screamed as the electricity powered and burned through my body, making my limbs spasm and my bones rattle. It lasted exactly six seconds, then the taser was pulled away from my stomach. I sagged.

"You are stubborn woman," A guy I had come to known as Boris drawled in a thick Russian accent. "Why do you not speak and your agony will be over?"

I breathed in through my nose and exhaled through my mouth. "Fuck. You."

The taser touched my skin again and I screamed, feeling that he had turned up the crank. The shockwaves coursed through my body until all my insides felt toasted, grilled. Then the electricity stopped.

"The bitch isn't speaking," Boris said to his buddy who I had also gotten a name on. Viktor. "Perhaps she is stupider than we originally thought."

"What did you expect? She's a woman. An American one."

There was a moment of hoarse chuckling while I tried to gain just a little strength. I was caput. Two weeks in this hell and all my energy reserves were spent.

'It's going to be a cakewalk, Wilkins. Get in, gun them down, get out. Simple.'

My ass.

The cold floor in the basement I was lying on started to chill my exposed body. They had stripped me from everything except my underwear, which they had graciously let me keep on. For the most parts.

"So we kill her too, like her friends," Boris voiced in Russian. They still hadn't discovered I understood them. "If she won't speak, then she is useless to us."

"Wait!" Viktor said, clearly holding Boris back with his arm. "She might not be willing to spread her country's secrets, but that doesn't mean she won't spread... other things."

"You want to fuck the broad? She's an American agent."

"I don't fucking care, I've been on this job for three months. She's the first bitch who's come in here. Have you seen the tits on her?"

Boris snorted loudly and then spat on the floor. "Fine, do whatever you want, she's dead anyway, but do me a favor and make her scream, yeah? This bitch just waisted two weeks of my life."

"I will do much more than just make her scream."

"Then go crazy, my brother."

~~~

Four weeks earlier . . .

"So you're saying there's no way to figure out what he downloaded?" I snapped, running my hands through my hair which I had been doing for the past hour. "None at all?"

"It's like I said, this virus is unlike anything I've ever seen before," Zac, our tech whiz, repeated while typing away on the super computer. He had been trying to salvage the damage done and pick up any trace that might lead us to a clue that could tell us what Vincenzo had stolen. "It's a whole new kind of virus, state of the art. Maybe even a skeleton key. Those Italians have upped their game. I can't even trace the USB's brand so that it could possibly tell us where they purchased it." He shook his head. "I'll tell you this though, they don't sell these kind of USB's in Walmart."

"Well that answers all the questions we already know the answers to," I replied and leaned in to look at him. "Are you seriously saying we got nothing?"

"There a thousands, literally millions of files on this thing!" Zac exclaimed. "You think we call it a super computer for the 'Marvel' effect of it? If this guy managed to break through the most secure computer in probably the entire world with just a custom designed and admittedly amazing USB, then I – a low-payed tech-genius – don't stand a chance at tracing him. He could've picked any of the files in here, and if he said he only wanted one, then that leaves us with literally one in a million. Does needle in a haystack mean anything to you?"

"Alright, fine!" I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose. "How long is this going to take then? Hours? Days?"

"Weeks, at best," Zac sighed, still typing away. "And that is if we assume I let go of my personal life and say adios to sleep. I'm sorry, Rya, but this was a professional hit. I can't do much else than sift the computer file for file and see if they've been touched. And that's assuming I'll even find a trace."

Growling and running my hands through my hair, I felt like punching something and punching it hard. Where was Monroe when you fucking needed his ugly face?

I couldn't believe I'd let Spaghetti get away. This was my fault for being such a... a woman. If I hadn't let him goddamn kiss me—

"Calm down, agent Wilkins," Howard said, coming up to me. He stopped me from pacing and gently grabbed my shoulders. His soft, chocolate eyes and brown face helped me calm my nerves. He reminded me of Morgan Freeman sometimes, if Morgan Freeman was slightly overweight and wore blue suits all the time. "This is very unfortunate, but there is no one to blame but him. I know you did your best, but this time he was better. He killed twenty of our agents and wounded sixteen. I'm just glad you made it out safe."

"I should have died trying to prevent him from stealing that information," I said, grinding my molars. "When we find this guy, he's mine. I want him, Howard, he dies by my hand."

Howard sighed. "If you feel that is necessary, then you still have my clearance. As of right now, he is a national enemy of the United States of America, but until Zac here finds us something, I'm afraid he's off the grid. Did you say you got a name on him?"

I nodded, closing my eyes. "Vincenzo."

~~~

Four weeks later . . .

Someone turned me over on the floor and mounted me, gripping onto my throat. My eyes flew open and I saw Viktor's malicious face glaring down at me, a wicked grin on his lips. "Wake up, bitch. We will have fun now."

Immediately when I felt his other hand seek down my body to my thong, I begun struggling, gripping onto his shoulders to try and push him off. "Get off me, you Russian piece of shit!"

Sneering, he punched me flat across my cheekbone, making my cheek swell and my head turn to the side. Weakly, I gritted my teeth, withstanding the pain that followed. I kept trying to push him off.

"Lie still bitch, or I'll use this," Viktor now brought a switchblade to my throat, the blade cutting into my skin. "What Boris has done to you is nothing compared to what I can and will do to you, so keep still."

"Go ahead and fucking kill me. I'm not afraid of dying," I growled, looking at him with swimming eyes. God, I could hardly keep my eyes open. I was too fatigued to fight. No food, no water... Just pain and torture. And now rape.

"I will kill you, but not before I've had my fun with you," He smirked sinisterly, bringing the knife down to my bra. He cut it in the middle and then snapped the straps, discarding the remains of the fabric. His eyes fell to my exposed breasts which I was too tired to cover up. They were just breasts anyway. The real rape-vessel was downstairs, that was where my main concern was. "I have a feeling we will have a lot of fun."

Struggling in his grip when he brought his lips down to my breasts, all I could do was try and keep him off, but what was the point? My unit was dead, I'd lost communication with the CIA. They had no idea where I was being held captive, and if they did, they must have assumed I was dead like the others; Extorted for information and then killed. No one was coming to save me.

His hands neared my thong again, and I struggled to fight him off, but it was useless. He easily pinned my hands above my head and locked my legs down with his weight. I was done for.

Just as he was about to cut through my thong, like my bra, I saw something in my peripheral vision. I couldn't make out the blurry shape, but it was probably just Boris coming to watch or some shit. Fuckheads like these were all the same; psychopaths.

But then I heard a gunshot and a splatter of blood struck my face. I managed to focus and I now saw Viktor on top of me with half of his brain hanging out of his head. Before his dead body collapsed on top of me, he was yanked away and thrashed against the cold concrete floor. The blurry shape from before now kneeled down to me.

"I recognize that thong anywhere."

Blinking my exhausted eyes, I focused long enough to catch a sight of short, black hair, a chiseled jawline and a pair of warm, brown eyes, looking down at me. I vaguely saw him take off his jacket and drape it over my body. "... Spaghetti?"

"Hello, mia cara."

• • •

Saved by spaghetti. There's a sentence I never thought I'd write.