Zommunist Invasion by Picott, Camille (ebook reader ink TXT) 📗

edges of his mustache curled as he smiled coldly at him. Anton felt sick with fear.

“Don’t worry,” the man said in thickly-accented English. “You’re next, little Sniper.”

He disappeared from sight. Anton struggled to catch his breath as terror hammered in his blood.

Calm the fuck down, he ordered himself. Suck it up. You got yourself into this mess. You can get through this. He could only imagine what Leo would say if he saw him.

“Anton.”

He distantly realized Tate had been calling his name. He shifted his attention, once again focusing on his chair. He inched it across the floor, heading for Tate. He had to focus on getting out of here.

His left arm pinched between the chairs as he finally got wedged up against Tate.

“Hold still,” Tate said.

“What else can I do, man?”

“You know what I mean. Just hold still so I can untie you.”

Tate’s fingers slid against his wrists. “Can you get closer?”

Anton pushed against the floor. The pain in his left arm increased, but he ignored it. “How’s that?”

“Better.”

Anton sat quietly while Tate fumbled with his ropes. He sat for so long the pinching in his arm spread numbness all the way down to his fingers and up his shoulder.

“You almost done, man?”

Tate swore in response. Anton took that as a no.

“Should I try you?” he asked.

Tate grunted. “Fuckers made tight knots.”

“Let me try you.”

Tate’s hands fell away. Anton gritted his teeth as he felt for the ropes binding Tate to the chair. Thirty seconds into the endeavor, he began to fervently wish he could go back in time and be a Boy Scout.

A key rattled in the steel door. Anton’s head jerked up. Adrenaline shot through his body as the KGB agent and one other Soviet entered the tiny cell. The sight of the two men made him start to sweat.

He put on his best look of insolence, the one he had perfected for Leo over the years. It was the look he donned any time he felt like a cheap knock-off to his perfect older brother.

At a nod from the KGB agent, the soldier pulled their chairs around, forcing Tate and Anton to face forward. The KGB asshole lit a cigarette and took a long drag. The end glowed bright orange.

“So.” The KGB exhaled, blowing a lungful of smoke into Anton’s face. “Is it you we have to thank for the attacks on our troops, little Snipers?”

Anton gave him a flat stare, though inside he quailed with fear. Sweat drenched his armpits, crotch, and back. Tate was equally stoic beside him.

“So you don’t deny it.” A tiny smile curled one side of the agent’s mouth. “You are both Snipers.”

Shit. They had walked right into that trap.

He attempted to back pedal. “We aren’t Snipers,” he scoffed. “I mean, we’re good shots, but we aren’t snipers.”

The agent moved without warning. Anton screamed as he ground the burning cigarette butt into his chest.

7

Cigarettes

The pain was unlike anything Anton had ever experienced before. He snapped his teeth shut, hissing as the pain went through him like an electrical current.

“It will be better for you if you don’t lie.” The agent looked at his soldier and flicked his fingers.

The first punch hit Anton across the jaw. His head rang. The second blow landed before he had a chance to recover. Pain radiated through his face and head. The asshole had a wedding ring on his punching hand. Anton felt his skin split when the fist landed.

He closed his eyes as the blows rained down, throwing all his concentration into staying silent. He would not cry out. He would not.

Beside him, Tate let out a long hiss. Anton opened his eyes just long enough to see the KGB agent snubbing out a cigarette on Tate’s chest.

The solider stepped away from Anton. His head hung limp as he struggled to catch his breath.

He’d taken plenty of hits on the football field over the years, but nothing prepared him for this. He sucked in great gulps of air as waves of pain rolled through his head and neck.

Under the direction of the KGB agent, the soldier shifted his attention to Tate and began pummeling the shit out of his face and head.

“Fuck you guys,” Tate snarled. “I won’t tell you a fucking thing.”

The KGB agent smiled in amusement as he relit the cigarette. His asshole lackey just kept beating the shit out of Tate.

“Just tell us where your base is and this will all be over,” the agent said.

Anton was insanely thankful for all those times Leo had pissed him off. He had distilled defiant glares down to a science. As the agent loomed over him, cigarette smoke fluting out of his nostrils, Anton gave the bastard his most derisive glare.

The agent shoved the glowing cigarette ember against the side of his neck. The smile behind his mustache was gleeful. Anton couldn’t quite suppress the scream that wanted to burst from his lungs. A groan burbled up from his throat as pain seared through him.

“We want the location of your base,” the agent said, once again lighting the cigarette. “Give us what we want and we’ll kill you quickly. There is no need for suffering.”

Anton forced himself to think of his family. Of Nonna, Lena, Leo, Dal, and everyone else who now lived at the cabin with them. He would not give them up. No fucking way. He would die like a broken dog here in this cell before selling out his family.

The cigarette came down again, this time burning against his ribcage. Anton sucked in great gulps of air. It took all his willpower not to scream.

Beside him, the soldier took a break from Tate’s face. The KGB agent passed him a lit cigarette. Tate’s eyes narrowed in defiance as the soldier blew smoke into his face.

“Fuck you,” Tate said.

The cigarette butt came down.

“Fuck you,” Tate said again, staring up in defiance at the soldier who grinned at him like a manic devil.

In almost the same instant, the KGB agent punched Anton