Vladimir lay awake in his bed a few nights later when there was a knock at the door. Annoyed, he crossed the room, preparing to give hell to whomever it was that was disturbing his peace. He opened the door and felt the strength flee from his legs; General Vladstok’s goon stood before him.
Vladimir made a leap for his pistol but was grabbed in midair and slammed to the ground; once again, he was trapped beneath the crushing power of the giant’s grip.
“The general wishes to see you,” he said. “Get dressed. Now.”
Flinging Vladimir towards his bed, he crossed his thick arms and waited for him to change his clothes, watching his every movement. Vladimir’s heart pounded as a single thought snarled repeatedly in his mind.
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