Warriors of Poseidon 05 - Atlantis Redeemed

of the weapon. He had no fear for himself. Every ounce of that terror was for Tiernan, left alone in that cell.
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    If he died, she would be alone, and she would suffer for it. Therefore, he must live, no matter what they did to him.
    He must survive it.
    They strapped him into the chair, and he didn’t struggle. Didn’t fight. He sat passively, restraining the rage and the need to kill them all. But he couldn’t completely hide the berserker inside him. Anyone who bothered to look in his eyes saw it and involuntarily stepped back from the intensity of the hatred staring out at them.
    Everyone but Smitty. He just nodded, recognizing a fellow predator, and continued strapping Brennan down to the chair.
    Litton approached to put the metal helmet on him, and an instant sense of claustrophobia clawed at Brennan, in a way that the hours in a cell had not. He strained at the leather bonds holding him to the chair, suddenly mindless, knowing only that he had to escape, had to find a way, couldn’t let them get to his brain.
    One of the guards made the mistake of coming just that fraction of an inch too close, and Brennan reared back and smashed his head into the man’s face. He shouted in triumph at the crunching noise and the guard’s scream, then whipped his head around to where Smitty stood on the other side of the chair.
    “Can’t say I blame you, mate, but can’t have that,” Smitty said. Then he lifted his hand and touched the metal box to Brennan and a powerful, painful jolt of electricity seared through his body, arching him off the chair and locking his clenched jaw in place so hard his skull ached from it.
    When the buzzing and the pain stopped, Brennan found himself wavering at the edge of consciousness, unable to move or fight. Unable to protect Tiernan, his mind thundered at him.
    Failed, failed, failed.
    Then Litton laughed and came closer and closer, holding up that godsdamned helmet. “It will be all better soon, Mr. Brennan,” he crooned, as if talking to a child. “All better—for me.”
    With that, he slammed the helmet down on Brennan’s head and began attaching electrodes.
    Brennan tried to struggle again, but his muscles didn’t want to obey his brain’s commands, and after a few seconds, Smitty reminded him of why he must not struggle.
    “They’ve still got those guns pointed at your woman. Do you really want to give us a reason?”
    Smitty’s dead eyes held something for an instant—maybe a flash of empathy—but then it vanished. “You know I’ll give the order.”
    Brennan fell back against the chair, and he didn’t move again until they turned on the machine and the electricity shooting into his skull from the helmet sliced his brain into pieces.
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    He couldn’t help it. He started to scream.

Chapter 31
    The first lightning bolt seared through his mind and Brennan’s consciousness shattered, pulled in so many different directions he couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t find a balance. A kaleidoscope of visions fractured through his mind: Atlantis, Tiernan, Alexios, Tiernan, Conlan and Riley, the baby, Tiernan.
    Always back to Tiernan. He knew he had to hold on to her image, to her memory. Must keep her fresh in his mind, no matter what.
    “Turn it up,” somebody said, a gleefully evil voice, and he knew the voice, knew the man. It was Litton. Dr. Litton. He was fiercely glad to have found the name, but then the lightning struck again and it vanished.
    Someone was shouting or screaming, somewhere close, but it wasn’t until he tried to swallow that Brennan realized it was him. He was screaming. He was in so much pain that it would surely split his skull in two at any moment.
    A face appeared in his field of vision and the pain ceased, blessed relief, and then the face spoke, and it was a strange voice, a voice he instinctively hated.
    “I’m your friend, Mr. Brennan. I’m here to help you,” said the voice, but the face was wrong, the face was Litton, and Brennan lunged at him, forgetting the restraints.
    “Not enough,” the face said, sly and pretending a regret that it did not feel. That Litton did not feel, Brennan reminded himself; he couldn’t lose touch with reality. It was not just a disembodied face talking to him, but that monster Litton, and they still had Tiernan, and he must endure.
    Must endure.
    The lightning spiked again, screaming