Special Forces: The Spy

She gritted her teeth, partially to keep the cotton balls hidden and partially because she was getting mad. Past her tight jaws, she ground out, “You guys are freaking cowards, hitting a woman who’s tied up and can’t defend herself. Does it make you feel like men? Because it makes you look like scared little boys.”

Yousef punched her this time, burying his fist in her left side, at belly button height. She let her body pivot in the chair as the blow landed, tensing her abdominal muscles to protect her internal organs.

She yelled a curse as pain exploded in her gut, relieved not to have passed out from a drop in blood pressure from being hit in that location.

After that, she did her best to absorb each blow with a minimum of damage, but the toll started to add up. One of her eyes swelled nearly shut, and blood ran down her chin from her nose and mouth. Soon her entire body felt like hamburger, and the pain was so loud and steady now that more blows almost failed to register.

That must be the endorphins kicking in. Thank God.

Yet again, her attacker came back with a fist aimed at her face. She closed her jaw and kept her tongue well away from her teeth, prepared to let her head snap to the side, rolling with the punch.

“Stop!” Goldeneyes yelled.

Her eyes snapped open, and she stared at him, along with everyone else.

“What?” Mahmoud demanded.

“Unless our orders are to kill her right now,” Goldeneyes ground out, “you need to stop making a punching bag out of her. As it is, you may have already seriously injured her. If she’s got internal bleeding, hitting her again could kill her. What did your handlers tell you to do, Mahmoud? Are we here to kill her now or not?”