Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103656 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 518(@200wpm)___ 415(@250wpm)___ 346(@300wpm)
“Because I said so. Do you need another reason?”
I think I glare at him. No, I’m sure I do, but I catch myself quickly and lower my head.
The dictatorial asshole.
He steps forward, unapologetically barging into my space. I have to remind myself that I’m a ‘man’ and men don’t cower, especially if they want to be taken seriously as a soldier.
I have to remind myself that the captain is only trying to intimidate me, but the pep talk does nothing to slow the rhythm of my heart.
Just why the hell does he affect me this way?
It doesn’t help that I’m inhaling him with every intake of air. It’s impossible to ignore his presence that dwarfs mine or his height that makes me feel like he’s a giant.
Breathing near him is no different than sucking air through a straw.
And this isn’t normal.
“Lift your head, Lipovsky. I want you to look at me again the same way you did just now.”
There’s a dropping quality to his voice, like it’s become deeper and lower than his normal speaking tone.
And now, I’m downright scared about looking at him. Maksim told me Captain is always a wild card.
It takes a man of a certain caliber to leave a family of the Morozov’s standing, just to play a game of death.
I’m slowly starting to see what type of man Captain Kirill is, and I certainly don’t want to be on his shit list.
Not now. Not ever.
But he’s being unreasonable by banning me from the action, so I do glare when I look up.
His eyes are ice cold, but there’s a hint of fire brewing beneath the surface. It’s subtle and discreet, but it’s right there.
Captain reaches a hand out for me, palm open, and a prickling sensation of danger tingles down my spine.
It’s like I’m facing the paw of a lion on the brink of an attack.
My first thought is to run.
But before I can do that, a loud boom echoes in the air.
8
SASHA
For a moment, I don’t move.
Time stops, and my surroundings plunge into an unnerving sea of silence.
Then everything comes crashing down. Something of inhuman strength grabs my shoulder, pushes me forward, and shoves me down. My knees hit the snow-covered soil, and my chest follows, knocking the breath out of my lungs.
At first, I think the explosion was so big that it blew me away and I’m currently dying. All my goals, hopes, and little-girl dreams start flashing before my eyes.
However, the cold hits my bones and I taste it on my tongue. The savage grip is still on the back of my head, shoving me into the snow and forbidding me from moving an inch.
The residual shock wave of the explosion buzzes in my ears. It’s impossible to make out my surroundings, but I can hear gunshots and a distorted “Go, go, go!”
I try to lift my head, and the firm grip slowly loosens but doesn’t disappear.
“Stay down.” The harsh command rises above the warped noise in my ears.
I don’t have to look to know it’s the captain. He has a distinctive voice and presence that’s impossible to mistake.
The loosening of his grip allows me a glimpse at the situation. We’re both crammed behind a tree opposite the warehouse where the sound of the bomb came from.
My lips part as the gruesome image comes into view.
The warehouse is on fire.
Shreds and tendrils from the blown-up building and blood smudge the whiteness of the snow. Some pieces sink into it, and others form a pool of water around them.
But that’s not the sight that chills me to my bones. It’s the human limbs scattered everywhere. They fill up the field of snow like props.
Those…those clothes are…ours.
Those men are from my unit.
A shrill sound of panic screeches in my ears. Images of blood and corpses with holes in them invade my head.
Screams. Wails. Tears.
Pop.
Pop.
Pop—
Just like back then, I’m helpless, and so broken, I can’t even stop the bleeding, let alone save anyone.
They’re dead.
I’m not.
They’re—
“Breathe, Lipovsky.” The authoritative voice sounds so close to my ear, I flinch. “Fucking breathe, Aleksander.”
His command has a firm roughness, and I look down to find that my fingers are curled around the rifle’s trigger, and my shoulders are shaking so hard that I can’t control them.
“Look at me.” It’s that voice again. There’s nothing gentle about his tone, not even an attempt to sound nice, but maybe that’s precisely what I need, because my head slowly turns to the side.
My chaotic breathing evens out as I’m caught off guard by the icy depths of the captain’s blue eyes. Staring into them is no different than being trapped at the North Pole.
“That’s it. Breathe.” His voice lowers further, and it’s almost welcoming but still commanding. “I’m going to need you to snap the fuck out of it, or you’ll die. Do you hear me?”