It felt like the massacre all over again. Their bodies in all that blood was a cruel reminder of my parents, my cousin, and everyone who left me forever.
I’m not even close to dealing with that, but just when I thought things couldn’t get worse, they dramatically have.
After Viktor picked us up from the cottage, it took us almost a day to arrive at the base since they couldn’t deploy a helicopter.
That’s when we were hit by one piece of devastating news after the other.
Rulan and his entire unit were wiped out.
Viktor lost two men, and a few others were wounded.
The general atmosphere at the base is so tense and thick, it could be cut with a knife.
A depressive mood worse than mine hardens the men’s expressions and ages them beyond their years.
When I was out there during the mission, all I thought about was eliminating targets. I chose not to think about the scattered remains of our men in the snow.
Or the blood.
Or the pain that would cause.
Now, however, all the emotions hit me in one go. It’s excruciating and surreal to think we lost people I used to eat, train, and play football with.
Most were young, ambitious, and had their entire future ahead of them.
Rulan…the man with furious loyalty and a headstrong personality, is gone. For good.
I cast a glance at Kirill, who’s striding to where the wounded are with Viktor. He doesn’t stop to change his clothes or to answer to the higher-ups who must be waiting for a report on the mission. He chose his men.
His expression remains neutral, collected, and absolutely undisturbed as he pats one soldier on the shoulder and nods at another.
Either he’s unfeeling or a man of steel who’s not familiar with the concept of emotions. It’s why he could be so detached from Nadia’s and Nicholas’s deaths.
It’s also why he could keep a cool head while receiving the news of his men’s deaths.
It’s precisely why he’s the captain. No one else but him would be able to pull what remains of the unit together.
“Sasha!”
I whirl around just in time to be engulfed in a bro hug. I wrap my arm around Maksim’s back and wince when he squeezes my bad shoulder.
He steps back. “What is it? You okay?”
“Just a little gunshot wound.” I roll my arm. “I’m good as new, though.”
“Jesus, man. I thought we’d lost you and the captain.”
We both turn to where I think he disappeared to around the corner. My breath catches when I’m caught in his suffocating attention.
Kirill stands there for a beat, eyes cold, hooded, and full of contempt. The expression disappears as soon as it appeared, and then he rounds the corner.
My heart, however, doesn’t slow or calm down. If I said it was only because of the look just now, that would be a lie.
I’ve been this fidgety and out of sorts ever since he let me hug him in the cottage yesterday. He didn’t physically comfort me, but his presence was enough to create a sense of safety.
It’s how I managed to pull myself together and abandon the suicidal thought of throwing myself into a dangerous situation.
He didn’t need to say anything or to even touch me. Just the feel of his hard muscles and steady heartbeat were enough to silence the demons inside me. I was relying on myself for years and that entailed burying my emotions and struggling to survive. I got so used to that feeling until that small moment when he let me hug him. Having someone there for a change was dangerously addictive.