Chapter 9
Orrin came awake in an instant as cold water was poured over his head. He sucked in a breath as pain radiated from several injuries over his body. With gritted teeth, he opened his eyes.
From his position on the floor on his side, he could see the room was still dark and dank. Blood crusted one of his eyes shut from the previous beatings. His hands were tied behind his back, making sitting up difficult. But Orrin managed it.
He glared at the man standing before him. Major General Yuri Markovic. The bastard. Orrin couldn’t remember feeling such hatred before. It was a good thing his hands were bound because he would’ve attacked otherwise.
In his camouflage uniform, Yuri stared balefully at Orrin. The fact Yuri felt safe enough to wear it meant that they might not be in America any longer. Which would be a very bad thing for Orrin.
Behind Yuri were two men, and two more waiting on the other side of the door—all wearing the same camo uniform and heavily armed.
There were few times in Orrin’s life when someone had gotten the better of him, and Yuri had done just that. It stung Orrin’s pride more than he wanted to admit. Mostly because Yuri was a friend—or rather, used to be a friend.
“You look like hell,” Yuri said snidely, his Russian accent thick.
It was Orrin who’d helped Yuri learn English over seventeen years ago. Yuri was a quick study, but there were occasions when he still mixed up words.
Orrin shrugged. “It’s the shitty accommodations and food.”
“I can make it better. A steak, perhaps? A soft bed with a blanket.”
Orrin smiled, cracking open his split lip. “I’m old, Yuri, but not so old that a soft bed will make me crack.”
“You will crack. I have made sure of it.”
For the first time since Orrin watched every man on his team executed, his gut tightened. The only thing that kept him sane was knowing that no matter what, Yuri would never be able to get to his sons.
They were all Orrin had left.
Yuri turned and pulled a laptop out of a bag Orrin saw sitting behind Yuri. He opened and turned the computer so Orrin could see it.
Silently, he watched the video from feeds attached to the helmets of Yuri’s men as they arrived at the ranch and barged into the house.
He didn’t allow any emotion to show on his face as the men summarily killed Virgil and Charlotte.
He pushed down the grief for his brother and sister-in-law as he realized his sons had just gotten pulled into this mess.
“Oh, you will break, stariy droog, old friend,” Yuri said as he squatted beside him, careful not to get anything on his pants. “You will tell me where Ragnarok is, or I start killing your sons. Which goes first?”
Old friend. That’s how Orrin had thought of Yuri once. Not anymore.
He watched picture after picture of his boys arriving at the ranch fill the screen. But if he’d done one thing for his sons, he’d taught them to survive.
He lifted his gaze to his captor. “Fuck you, Yuri.”
The punch came from the side, slamming his head into the wall.