~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:72◀

The chapter:

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3rd person pov:

Russia woke to the sound of America’s angry voice echoing through the house. The sharp tone startled him out of his sleep, and he sat up quickly, his heart racing. America was pacing the room, his phone pressed against his ear as he shouted into it.

“...You can’t be serious, Israel! This isn’t what we agreed on!” America’s frustration was palpable, his free hand clenched into a fist.

Russia listened, trying to make sense of the conversation, but the details were lost in the barrage of angry words. America was too focused on the call to notice that Russia had woken up. The conversation continued, filled with tension and irritation, until America finally ended the call with a sharp, “We’ll talk about this later.”

He threw the phone onto the bed and turned, his eyes narrowing when he saw Russia sitting there. With a huff of annoyance, America rolled his eyes and grabbed Russia by the arm, pulling him out of bed. “Come on,” he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. “We’re going to the kitchen.”

Russia stumbled along, still trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The cuffs linking them together clinked as they moved, a constant reminder of the strange and strained circumstances they were in. He followed America into the kitchen, feeling a knot of anxiety in his stomach.

In the kitchen, America quickly brewed a pot of coffee, the rich aroma filling the room. He poured two mugs, handing one to Russia without a word. The silence between them was heavy, charged with the leftover tension from the earlier phone call.

Russia sipped his coffee cautiously, watching America from the corner of his eye. The American was clearly still upset, his movements sharp and impatient. Russia decided it was best not to ask about the call; he didn’t want to provoke America’s ire any further.

After they finished their coffee, America abruptly tossed some clothes at Russia. “Here, put these on. We’re going out.”

Russia caught the clothes, blinking in surprise. “Where are we going?” he asked softly, but America didn’t answer. Instead, he gestured towards the bathroom.

Russia hesitated, but with the cuffs still binding them, he had no choice but to follow America into the bathroom. America leaned against the sink, scrolling through his phone, while Russia awkwardly tried to change into the clothes he’d been given. It was a challenge, given the short length of the cuffs, but he managed to slip into the outfit quickly without ame noticing his wings—a simple t-shirt and jeans that were slightly too big for him.

Once he was dressed, they made their way out of the bathroom and into America’s garage. Russia’s heart skipped a beat when he saw again the bright red Corvette parked there. It was a stunning car, sleek and powerful, and it reminded him of the collection he had seen the night before.

America opened the passenger door and motioned for Russia to get in. With a slight nod, Russia complied, settling into the leather seat. He glanced at America, who was already behind the wheel, his expression unreadable as he started the engine. The car roared to life, and they sped out of the garage.

The drive was silent, the tension from earlier still hanging over them like a dark cloud. Russia didn’t dare ask where they were going; he simply stared out the window, watching the world pass by in a blur of color and movement.

After what felt like an eternity, America pulled the Corvette into a parking lot. Russia’s breath hitched as he noticed another car already parked there. Beside it stood a figure that Russia quickly recognized—it was Israel.