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“Speaking of living.” He moves in front of me and stops, forcing me to do the same. “Your father is demanding your immediate return to the States. Apparently, things aren’t the best.”
“When have they ever been?”
“He said it’s an order.”
My jaw clenches.
The reminder of my so-called home and my father always brings a bitter fucking taste to my mouth.
It’s too early to go back to that blood pit.
Not that there isn’t blood here, but here, it’s on my terms and with my methods.
“Let me guess, you’re going to ignore him again,” Viktor says, his brows drawn and that usual calculation passing through his gaze.
“You guessed correctly. Give yourself a pat on the back.”
“Kirill, no. He will not let this slide.”
“He can’t do shit to me here.”
“But—”
“This discussion is over, Viktor.” I brush past him. “Let’s bring the men back before someone gets in trouble.”
They’re the only people who matter. Everyone else, my family included, doesn’t.
4
SASHA
Four weeks pass in a blur.
At first, the rhythm was unbearably exhausting and drove me to the edge of my physical abilities. I nearly threw up and fainted multiple times. I considered quitting, but leaving the military institution was out of the question.
As my uncle insisted, if I’m out of here, it’ll be a matter of time before I’m found and killed. Worse, I might even lead them to the rest of my family so that they can finish the massacre they started.
On the bright side, my endurance has improved with time, and I can go for hours without feeling the need to collapse.
When the captain caught me and started this challenge, I thought I would never get this far, but as he told me, it’s only a mind game; once I learn the rules, everything will be easier.
Kirill Morozov. That’s the captain’s name.
I learned it during the time I’ve spent physically torturing myself to build my muscle strength.
It’s been a steep hill to climb with lots of leg, arm, and abdominal work. He has no intention of making me buff since, according to his observations, my main advantage is speed and a ‘decent’ aim.
He still has every intention of pushing me beyond my limits, though.
A long time ago, I used to pride myself in being a strong, determined girl. I used to wrestle with Papa, my uncles, my brother, and my cousins. Running, sparring with wooden swords, and climbing trees were everyday occurrences.
I about gave my poor mama a heart attack every time I went home with my torn and grimy dresses, a dirty face, and disheveled hair. She used to give me the longest lecture as she bathed and dolled me up again.
Back then, I’d stare in the mirror and love how I looked. I adored the lacy dresses and my long blonde hair that reflected the sun. I used to play with my strands and reign as a princess over my cousins.
Despite my tomboyish activities, I loved how pretty Mama made me look. I just couldn’t resist joining my brother and cousins whenever they went on a mischievous adventure.
If they were to see me struggling with training right now, they’d taunt, “Is that the best you can do, Sashenka?”
