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)
Not only are they unnerving to look at, but I also feel myself trembling under their scrutiny.
What the hell?
I shake myself out of my daze and try to keep staring ahead. The key word being try. It’s impossible to ignore his presence when he’s so close; I’m forced to inhale him with every intake of air.
He smells fresh and clean, which is a rare occurrence in the training camp.
“I’m asking for the second and final time. What happened here?” His controlled words float over my skin, and the command in them bounces against my chest. His Russian is different from these guys’ and anyone in the army.
Everyone speaks in a colloquial manner, but his words are more elevated, almost similar to how I was brought up.
My lips tremble, wanting to let it all out, but Matvey steps forward. “We were just joking among each other, sir.”
Joking, my ass.
I must break my salute stance because the captain pushes further into my space, which makes me immediately go back into the correct position.
Jeez.
I forgot he was right in my face.
No, not forgot. That would be impossible to do. More like, I was taken aback by Matvey's audacity.
“Does joking include a bloody nose and lips, soldier?” He’s asking Matvey, but he’s still looking at me.
“Sometimes, yes, sir,” Matvey replies confidently like the lowlife he is.
“Very well.” The captain finally pushes back, but before I can breathe properly, he swings his fist and punches Matvey across the face so hard, he reels back from the power of it.
A collective gasp echoes in the hall as Matvey’s nose runs with blood and drips on the ground.
The captain lowers his hand, letting it nonchalantly hang at his side. “Then let’s say I’m joking with you, soldier. I will also be reporting the five of you to your direct superior for insubordination so he can teach you that this institution doesn’t tolerate these types of games.”
Then, he turns around and leaves with long, even strides that steal my attention.
Matvey clutches his nose and curses, and the others fawn over him, trying to make the bleeding stop.
I don’t wait to take the fallout of their anger and be trapped by them again. So, without allowing myself to overthink the situation, I follow the captain.
Maybe, just maybe, I’ve finally found someone to teach me how not to be a weakling.
2
SASHA
While I like to believe I’m a practical person who overthinks before acting, there are times when I act out of pure impulse, not considering the possible ramifications, circumstances, or people’s reactions.
This is one of those times.
My steps are lighter as I completely ignore the pain from the boots and the general discomfort caused by my blood-clogged nose and swollen lips.
I break into a jog to catch up with the mysterious captain’s wide strides.
You know how some people are thrown into your path for a specific reason? I think—no, I’m certain that he’s here for that reason.
He’s nothing short of a phenomenon, an occurrence that I’m sure happens once in a lifetime, and if I don’t seize this chance, I won’t be given another.
His retreating back is getting farther and farther away, disappearing down the depressing hallway with the flickering fluorescent lights.
I can’t help noticing how he walks with purpose. No, not walks. He’s definitely striding, looking the part of a captain even when he’s not on duty.
Just when he’s about to round the corner, my mind goes into overdrive at the prospect of missing him—and my chance.
“Captain!” I call with all the strength I have.
He shows no sign of hearing me, and for a moment, I think I’ve lost him. That all my strength wasn’t enough.
Then in one swift movement, he spins around, and I freeze in place. He’s farther away than he was earlier, but I see him more clearly now, and I have no choice but to be sucked into his penetrating gaze.
The unforgiving harshness of his feral eyes pins me in place. It strikes me then.
He looks like a human weapon.
I don’t have to see him in action to guess that he’s both highly efficient and cold-blooded.
I shouldn’t have any misconceptions about this man just because he saved me earlier. He would’ve done the same for anyone in my position, considering he’s a higher-up.
It’s a duty. Nothing less and nothing more.
He slides his gaze over the length of me, eyes tapering with an acute sense of…disapproval.
“Do you have a habit of not greeting your superiors, soldier?” His crisp, deep voice again.
I’m caught in a trance by the subtle authoritativeness in it and the lowering edge in his tone.
He raises a perfect thick brow, and I straighten, then salute. “Sir, no, sir.”
Long silence stretches between us, and I think he’ll turn around and forbid me from following this time, but his voice carries in the silence again. “What’s your name, soldier?”