Zara’s POV
‘Who are you! Tell me your name!’ a harsh voice snarls through the thick material of the burlap bag that covers my head.
‘Recruit three five nine eight one one’ I shout back.
‘No! Your name! Tell me your name!’ the voice orders again.
‘Recruit three five ni . .’ my words are cut off as I’m pushed forward by the shoulders, my face hitting freezing cold water that fills my nose and mouth.
I squirm against the hands holding me, trying not to breathe in, my lungs burning the onger I’m submerged.
I’m pulled back again, my ass slamming into a hard wooden chair as my throat is grabbed roughly, squeezing as I cough, trying to get air.
‘Tell me your name’ the voice demands against my ear, ‘this will stop if you just tell me.’
Through choked coughs I repeat, ‘Recruit Three five ni
