THEIR CAPTIVE

CHAPTER 2

My eyes flew open and I squinted against the bright flame of a fireplace.

Dizzy and disoriented, I looked around the room, confused as to why I am here.

My head feels heavy, my tongue thick against the roof of my mouth while my throat is parched like a dry sandpaper. There's an odd taste on my mouth that taste like...like...

Where am I?

What happened?

Slowly, I surveyed the strange room. A blazing fireplace in front of me, bear rug underneath my feet and deer antlers displayed on the walls.
Picture frames decorated the dark wood but it's too far to decipher what's in it.

Beside me was a circular oak table with a glass of water, a bowl of grapes and sliced bread atop it. In my haste, I nearly lunged for it but when I did, something held me back.

No. Not something.

I can't fucking move.

Confused, I tried to raise my hands again but I'm held immobile.

Then, I noticed it. The ropes. The tight knots binding my wrists, and torso to a wooden chair. The tight leather laces on each of my thighs, parting them far apart to expose my bare pussy.

Scheisse.

And it finally hit me. The Russian. That traitorous fucker.

After that eight hours of pointless trek, only to be captured by a pretentious ashsole that spiked a bag water to get me unconscious.

Looking down at myself, I am stripped naked. My combat boots are gone, so is my rifle and balaclava, including all my military clothes. The only thing giving me warmth is the flame of the fireplace which I am forced to stare.

I tried to kick my feet or close my legs but it didn't move an inch. I snapped my mouth but there's a thick material in between them. A fucking gag.

I attempted to scream but all that came out is a muffled sound. Seething, I cursed myself for falling for a trap. Again.

I should've taken my chances on those woods rather than ending up as a prisoner.

Everyone in our base is aware of the Russian's cruelty. They do not just kill their captives, they maim and break until all the information they want is out in the open.

A bone-chilling dread settled on my shoulders upon realizing how truly fucked I am.

I'm going to be tortured. Raped
Used. And later on killed after I ran out of worth. However, I swore loyalty to my flag and no matter what, the information will die with me.

A door opened behind me and my spine snapped rigid with alarm. Fear vanished any trace of dizziness and I braced myself.

Loud footsteps followed that drew closer and closer until it stopped directly behind me. My exhales came out in hurried pants and if my soul could jump, it would leave my body right at this moment.

"Privet, commander" the familiar deep voice greeted.

From my peripheral vision, I followed the movement of the large figure before my captor revealed himself to me.

With his ushanka gone that exposed his dark locks, combined with his intimidating size, and his eyes that seemed onyx with the firelight, he looks downrigh terrifying.

Depsite my humiliating position, and my cunt exposed, I still held my ground and refused to cower.

He stared me down and I glared up at him with so much hatred. If looks can kill, he would drop dead right now.

"Good, you know why you're here" he murmured.

Crouching down to level our gazes, a taunting smirk titled the corner of his mouth while I simmered with rage.

"Tell me, commander. Will you give us what we want from you or will we need to break you first?" his eyes devoured my exposed flesh, following the path of vine tattoo that starts below my breasts, stopping just above my mound.

My chest heaved with loaded pants and I growled when he raised a finger to trace my tattoo. He caressed my stomach, then lower until the tip of his finger rested just above my clit.

My breath hitched.

Despite the odds, a shiver racks my body that doesn't do with the cold.

No.

"Hmm?" he raised his eyes up at me.

"Fuck you!"

However, the gag stopped the words from forming and it merely came out as a muffled curse.

He smirked further at my ire.

Once again, I tried pull at the bonds but all I managed is to squirm at my seat.

Fucking ropes and fucking Russians.

"Ronan!" he suddenly called out. A second later, another pair of footsteps followed before the second person joined his...

"Shall we start?" the exact replica of that deep voice sounded. If I could gasp, I would. They weren't just similar. They were a fucking exact photocopy of each other.

The same piercing eyes, same defined jaw, same perfectly symmetrical features and same size. If only they weren't enemies, I would find them hot.

No.

Because brothers. Twin brothers.

I've not just been captured by one but two...two large Russians that stared down at me as if they want to eat me alive and spit me out in shambles.

I must say, dying in the woods is better than this.