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)
“Stay still.”
The captain’s somber voice keeps me rooted in place, my hands at either side of me and my heart beating so loud, I can hear it in my ears.
I search around to try getting a glimpse of him, but he’s not in any of the nearby trees. He must be close enough to see me, though.
“He’s watching your every move. If he gets a clear shot, he’ll finish you.”
“How was my position exposed?”
“He used the shots you took as a parameter to find out where you were. He’s probably the one who took out our snipers.”
“Fuck.”
“Fuck, indeed, Lipovsky. Your life is on the line now. If you move, you die. If you stay there, you’ll also die, because he likely sent the infantry in your direction.”
I gulp, feeling the strap itch against my neck. Despite the fact that I’m fully covered with combat gear, ice hardens my brain.
“What do I do?” I murmur. “Should I just go for it?”
“If you’re in the mood to die, then sure, Lipovsky, go for it.”
I narrow my eyes. Was that sarcasm just now? I turn my head to the side to search for him. A shot hits the tree trunk, missing my nose by an inch.
Holy shit. This asshole has a beef with me.
“I told you to stay fucking still.” The captain’s command nearly pierces my eardrums. I resist the urge to massage my ears since that would surely cost me my arm.
But I can’t stay still. If I do, I’ll be ambushed and killed. If not by whoever the sniper sent, then by a distant shot. I’m a sitting duck at this point.
“Listen to me carefully, Lipovsky. I’m going to need you to distract him.”
“How…?”
“Any way that doesn’t put you in danger. But I do need him to take another shot at you.”
“Uh…how can I accomplish that and not be in danger?”
“Throw a stick or your rifle.”
“No way in hell. Losing my weapon is no different from losing my life.”
“That’s your inferiority complex speaking, and watch the tone. Now, think of something at the count of five, four…”
“Wait!” I can’t think this fast.
“Three, two…”
Shit.
Shit.
“One.”
It all happens in slow motion. I lunge forward, not to be a martyr, but because I honestly think the other sniper is too smart to be fooled by a stick or even a rifle.
He probably won’t take aim unless he sees me in his sights. Which is why I have no choice but to go this route.
I hear the shot and the thud in my upper back before I feel the burn beneath my skin.
Pain explodes in my shoulder, and gravity pulls me down, but I manage to use the remainder of my strength to push myself back against the tree trunk.
I even tuck my legs and arms so that I’m entirely hidden and not in his range of sight anymore.
But in doing so, I scrape the fresh wound against the tree. A scream bubbles in my throat, but I bite my lip to suppress it.
“Lipovsky, you fucking—”
“Did you get him, Captain?” I ask in a drowsy voice, definitely cutting him off, and that would’ve gotten me in deep shit any other time, but these are special circumstances. “Tell me you got the asshole…”
My breathing slows and so does my pulse, but when my body starts to lean sideways, I forcibly shake my head and remain in the safe position.
“Of course I did, but he’s not alone.”
“Sorry, Captain. I don’t think I can distract the other ones.”
“No shit.” There’s a dark intonation in his voice. “How hurt are you?”
“Shot to the upper back, the shoulder, I think, but it’s manageable.”
“Like fuck it is. You’re barely conscious.”
“Ha… Guess that means my attempts to sound strong failed…”
“Don’t you dare lose consciousness, Lipovsky. That’s an order.”
“You…called me Aleksander earlier…” My eyes droop. “I like that better…” than the fake last name.
No idea why I told him that, but it seemed imperative for some reason.
At least Aleksander is the male version of my real name, and Sasha is the diminutive form for both.
“Lipovsky!”
Aleksandra. My name is Aleksandra, damn it.
But I don’t have the strength to say that as my head lolls to the side. Some shots sound around me, continuing the symphony of war.
I try to lift my rifle even when I can’t open my eyes. It’s instinct, I think. The need to remain alive no matter what.
But my fingers barely move.
I don’t know how much time passes or if it passes at all before I strong arms surround me.
They feel big and cage-like, but instead of trapping me, they’re holding me up.
And then his voice, one made of a strange mix of nightmares and lullabies, rings in my ear. “What the fuck am I going to do with you?”
9
KIRILL
The fucking fucker.
I swear to everything that’s unholy, I’m going to murder the fuck out of him if he’s alive.