Price had been many things in his life—soldier, captain, leader. But never helpless. Yet that’s exactly what he was when he came to in that underground bunker. The air was stale, metallic, and cold, walls made of reinforced stone with not a single window. No clock. No light but the flickering bulb overhead. He was strapped into a steel chair, wrists cuffed and bound tight with layers of chain and rope, ankles pulled back against the legs of the chair. Whoever had done this knew how to restrain a man trained to break restraints.