Inhaling deeply, Mila pushed down the terror that had overtaken her moments before. She couldn't let Meyer see her like that ... She wouldn't give him the satisfaction. Screwing up her face into a look of rebellious indifference, she glanced over her shoulder, her eyes locking with his.

"I said have a seat," He repeated the order. She turned around to face him, staying rooted to the spot where she stood. He gritted his teeth in annoyance. This was the same song and dance they did every time. She would disobey his orders, pushing his buttons until he lashed out at her. She knew she was making it harder on herself, but she refused to lay down and submit to him. She wouldn't give him that. Anything he got from her, he was going to have to extract with force. Unbuckling his belt, he slipped it off.

Crossing the room, he grabbed her hair, slinging her against the wall, her head hitting the cinderblock with a thud, slicing a thin gash over her temple. She blinked, her vision full of tiny, little spots, as blood trickled from the wound. He grabbed her shoulder, and spun her around, pushing the front of her body against the wall.

"I'm growing increasingly tired of your disobedience," He seethed against her ear. Grabbing her hands, he yanked them behind her back. He took the belt and looped it around her wrists before cinching it tightly. Once he had restrained her, he pulled her off the wall and walked her across the room to the chair. Shoving her down into a seated position, he wrapped a thick rope around each ankle, securing them to the legs of the chair.

Glancing down at the large tub of water that sat beside the chair, she blinked back the tears that stung her eyes. Her head was throbbing from the blow it had just received, but she was still able to think straight enough to know exactly what Meyer had in store for her. He was going to water board her.

Swallowing down the new wave of fear that had washed over her, she looked from the tub, to S.S. Meyer. He was studying her, scanning her face for any crack in the facade of calmness she'd been trying to exude. She glared up at him defiantly.

"Let's get started then, shall we?" He said, ignoring her disdainful expression. "What information did you pass to SIS during your time at The War Office? ... I assume you know what this is?" He asked, directing his attention to the tub of water when she didn't answer his initial question. She stared at him, refusing to acknowledge him. "Do you know how it works ... waterboarding?"

"I have an idea," She replied flatly.

"It makes you feel like you're drowning. Like you're going to die ... You won't though," He smirked, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform. "I can do it as many times as I want, and it won't kill you ... Now, answer my question."

"Go to hell," She shot back. Rearing back, he slapped her across the cheek, her head snapping to the side. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he pulled her head back until it was extended over the back of the chair.

"Why don't I demonstrate?" Pulling a sopping wet towel out of the water, he wrapped it over her face, holding it tightly at the back of her head.

"Mmmm!" She tried to scream but the sound was drowned out by the taunt fabric. She fought against her restraints as he held her down. Suddenly, water flooded over her face, going up her nose and down her throat. She tried to scream but no sound would come out. Her nose burned, her eyes burned, her throat burned ... everything burned. And then, as quickly as it had come, it was over. S.S. Meyer removed the towel from her face and she leaned forward coughing and choking, gasping for the air she'd been deprived of so abruptly.

"What about now?" He sneered at her. "Or should we go again?" Throwing the towel around her head, more water rushed into her mouth and up her nose as he poured it over her face. She gasped for air after he pulled the towel away again, spitting out the water she'd coughed up. "Ready to answer questions now?" He jeered at her, gripping her hair and pulling her head back to look at him.

"Fu-fuck you," She spat out through gasping breaths. His jaw clenched in anger. He'd thought she would break ... It was plain all over his face ... And the fact that she hadn't yet infuriated him. Pulling the knife from his pocket, he cut the ropes that had bound her ankles. Grabbing her by her hair, he shoved her onto her knees, and dunked her head into the tub of water. She pushed against him, jerking against the belt that still restrained her hands. Was he going to kill her ... actually drown her? Yanking her head back up, he pulled her body against his.

"You will break," He said against her ear. "I promise you."

She gulped in a deep breath just before she was shoved back under water. Her head was throbbing, her vision going blurry. He pulled her back above water, giving her only a few seconds of respite before dunking her back in. Her lungs burned from the lack of oxygen. She felt like she was going to pass out. He pulled her up, her body going limp against his, her eyes fluttering closed as unconsciousness threatened to overtake her.

Mila blinked open her eyes, her head pounding. She was lying on the cot in her cell, her hair still damp from the torture S.S. Meyer had subjected her to.

"You're awake," She heard a voice call from the opposite side of the room. She looked up, her eyes falling on S.S. Wagner. He made his way over to her, pulling up a chair beside her bed. Sitting down, he gestured for her to sit up, and she obliged. Tilting her head up by her chin, he examined the gash across her temple. "This would all be so much easier for you, if you'd just submit," He commented, brushing his fingertip against the wound. She flinched away, wincing. She watched as he pulled gauze and antiseptic from the small first aid kit he had brought in with him.

"You think I can't see what you're doing?" She said icily.

"What do you mean?" He furrowed his brow as he poured some of the antiseptic onto the gauze.

"This whole routine of yours isn't lost on me," She began, her tone icier. "You haven't so much as raised a hand to me since my first day here ... Letting him do all the dirty work, while you swoop in to pick up the pieces once he's finished," She shook her head. She was furious with herself. She'd sought comfort in the only place she could find it, knowing all the while it was a charade. "You're hoping you'll gain my trust ... That I'll confide in you, or at the very least, let my guard down and slip up," She continued. "We both know it could just as easily be you beating me everyday, and you wouldn't lose a bit of sleep at night if it were," She added scornfully. It was true. It could have just as easily been Wagner drowning her earlier today, and S.S. Meyer tending to her wounds now. They both had a part to play in this game of cat and mouse, and they each played them very well. He studied her, considering her words.

"You're a lot smarter than they've given you credit for," He said after a long pause. Reaching up, he brushed the antiseptic soaked gauze over the gash on her temple.

"What are you doing?" She recoiled from his touch. "I told you ... I know why you're doing this."

"This still needs tending to," He replied simply, continuing to doctor her wound. She didn't object, allowing him to clean the cut fully.

"You said your father and brother were killed by Heinrich Muller," He said after they'd sat in silence for a while.

"Yes."

"And you saw it happen?" He asked, putting the antiseptic and gauze back in the first aid kit.

Yes," She nodded. What was he getting at? This didn't have anything to do with the information they wanted.

"Why stay? Why not get out?"

"I was angry."

"Angry?"

"Angry that everything had been taken from me by people like you," She replied coldly.

"You should've run." He hadn't meant it as a threat. As crazy as it sounded, his comment had actually sounded earnest.

"It's too late for that now," She said darkly.

"Yes ... I suppose it is."