Nekane's mind swam in the darkness, the pulsing pain in his head the only proof of his existence. He felt the cold, hard floor underneath him and the sharp scrape of the ropes binding his hands.

A rough hand yanked the sack off his head. Nekane blinked against the dim light, trying to make out his surroundings. He was in a basement, a grime-covered room that reeked of rot and mildew.

His captors were shadows, their features hidden. Their laughter echoed in the room, a cruel, triumphant sound. They discussed his ransom, their words a buzz in his ears.

The gag in his mouth made it hard to breathe. He tasted the iron tang of blood as it bit into his lips. Desperate, he spat it out, gasping for air, but his brief respite was short-lived.

A heavy hand slapped him across the face, snapping his head to one side. The gag was shoved back into his mouth, pulled even tighter. His eyes watered as he choked on the fabric.

Left alone, Nekane's heart pounded in his chest as he strained against his bonds. His every attempt at movement only made the ropes cut deeper into his skin, drawing more blood. The taste of iron filled his mouth as he fought for breath through the gag. Despair started to creep in, but then, he heard footsteps.

The footsteps were getting closer, and Nekane tried to scream, to make some sort of noise to alert whoever was there. His pleas were nothing more than muffled whimpers, but they were enough. The door to the basement creaked open, and a woman walked in, her face etched with shock at the sight of him.

Without a word, the woman rushed towards Nekane, her hands trembling as she started untying his bonds. The ropes fell away, and Nekane gasped, his chest heaving as he sucked in air. The gag was pulled out next, and he coughed, his throat raw and sore.