3

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?” “Private Lipovsky, sir.” “Full name.” A shiver goes through me. He could be asking for my name to report me or something, but I seal away my doubts as I answer, “Private Aleksander Abramovic Lipovsky, sir.” Another long moment of stretched silence. The few seconds that tick by feel like hours. As much as I try to hold my ground, I can’t help the sweat that trickles down my spine. The sound of heavy boots reverberates in the air and invades my ears as he advances toward me. When he stops an arm’s length in front of me, I have trouble breathing. Was silence always this unbearable, or is it only this way around the captain? I’m not ready for when he speaks in that authoritative voice of his. It doesn’t matter that he was also close to me earlier. There’s an edge of intensity to his presence that’s impossible to get used to. “Why are you following me, Private Lipovsky?” “I wasn’t…” “You weren’t what?” Something changes in his tone. Though subtle, I can feel the escalation of his usual command, and my spine jerks. It’s not that I cower in front of figures of power. I’ve never acted or felt this way with my direct superiors. This captain, however, falls into a new category I haven’t dealt with before. “I wasn’t, sir,” I say in a lower range than my usual ‘male’ voice and pause when he tilts his head to the side, studying me so closely, it borders on intrusive. “Care to explain why you’re in the same space as me then?” He’s losing his patience. I don’t have to see it on his face when I can hear it loud and clear in his voice. If I don’t make use of this chance, this moment will just go down in his memory as a faceless encounter. “I lied, sir.” “You lied?” There’s a note of amusement in his voice. No, not really amusement, but something along the lines of ‘did you, now?’ “Yes. I did follow you, but only so I could ask you something, sir.” “You’re not in a position to ask me anything.” “I know, and I’ll understand if you turn me down, but I would rather be rejected than regret not taking this step, sir.” “Which is?” I meet his eyes, deliberately, for the first time since I followed him. I’m metaphorically knocked off my feet by the sheer intensity that stares back at me, and I’m almost derailed from my mission. Almost. However, I take my time to breathe in steady intervals and force myself to recall what’s at stake here. This isn’t only about me. The rest of my family is at stake here. They’re weak, hidden, and have no one to protect them except for me. “Please train me, sir.” I speak in a clear, determined voice. “Train you?” he repeats. Although his tone is calm, there’s something intimidating beneath the surface and that, indirectly, makes me doubt my own words. I manage to keep my cool, though. “Yes, sir.” “Why?” Neither his expression nor his demeanor changes, but that might not be as good as it seems. Especially since he looks no different than a sturdy wall standing erect between me and my goal. While his question is logical, the answer isn’t as easy to come by. I doubt he’s the type who likes ass-kissing, so if I say it’s because I think he’s strong, he’ll call bullshit. Not only have I never seen him in action, but I also don’t even know his name. If I say because I want to be in special ops and potentially have the type of power that will help my family members, that would be no different than selling them out. So I take a deep breath and go with the most direct route. “Because I don’t want to be a weakling, sir.” “You don’t want to be a weakling. Interesting.” Usually, that last word would be accompanied by a note of curiosity. Not with the captain. Instead, it’s coated with dark edges and somber amusement. A combination that’s odd at best. “Does this have to do with your brutalized nose and mouth?” He juts his chin in the general direction of my face. For some reason, that makes me self-conscious about my appearance and the weakness he must’ve seen in the scene from earlier. I wish I could dig a hole and bury myself in it, just to conceal the humiliation. But then again, this isn’t only about me. So I nod slowly. “You have a voice, use it, Lipovsky.” Is this man…a dictator? It’s not too late to backpedal, is it? Under his scrutinizing stare, I say, “Yes, sir.”