War Girls Complete Collection Chapter 243

Chapter 21

R

ichard was awakened by sneaking steps and jerked up, his eyes piercing the darkness of the night. Nothing to see, nor hear. But his neck hair stood on end with the certainty that someone, or something, was observing him.

He fumbled for his knife, but even before he’d reached it in the darkness, he felt a cold blade against his throat as a whispered voice threatened, “Don’t even think about it. The less you resist, the better for you.”

Richard pressed out a throaty agreement and slowly raised his hands. Moments later several dozen dark figures approached the sleeping group of travelers and with the cordon tightened around the camp, the thieves proceeded to relieve the refugees of anything of value they owned.

A woman screamed, but the scream stopped suddenly and from then on, nobody dared to make a single sound, leaving the camp in an eerie silence only interrupted by short commands to hand over the valuables.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw how Katrina handed over their only possession, the rucksack with the water bottle and some extra clothing. The robber turned it inside out and, angry at the lack of anything of material value, hit Katrina in the face.

She fell backwards and hit her head, screaming with pain, “

Psiakrew!

”

All the blood drained from Richard’s face as he realized how the thug turned toward her with a shining knife in his hand. He didn’t quite understand the man’s words, but the way she crept backwards indicated an explicit threat.

Katrina lay on the ground,

her head throbbing with pain, but that was nothing compared to the fear that grabbed her heart as she realized the mistake she’d committed.

“You must see this, Karol,” the man who’d hit her called out. Moments later a huge man with black hair and a pistol in his left hand approached them with face grim.

“What’s so important?” Karol said impatiently.

“This one. She’s not a bloody German.”

“Not a German. Well…” Karol smirked. He leaned forward, his foul breath skimming her face.

Katrina tried to creep away from him, but bumped into the boots of another man. She was effectively trapped in place. Richard sat several feet away from her, a knife to his throat, watching her with panic-stricken eyes.

“What’s your name?” Karol asked, setting his pistol on her chest when she didn’t immediately answer.

“Katharina Klausen,” she lied.

“Lying bitch.” A boot connected with her ribs and she gave a short yelp, but swallowed down another Polish expletive that had brought her into this terrible position in the first place. “Where are you from?”

“Breslau,” she managed to press through gritted teeth.

“A Polish Nazi whore,” Karol said, kicking her again.

“I’m not…” Katrina stopped herself, the futility of the situation washing over her in waves. She’d lose either way. Whether they killed her for being one of the despised Germans or because they thought her to be a Nazi collaborator didn’t really matter in the end.

“Was getting shagged by that piece of trash worth dying for?” Karol pointed at Richard with a dirty leer.

“Please, this is a mistake, let me go,” she pleaded with him.

“Maybe I could do that,” he said, skimming his pistol down her abdomen until he pushed it between her legs. “But first you have to tell me who you really are.” The hard muzzle pressed up against her soft flesh.

She squirmed, but willed her body to become limp as the pressure of the revolver against her core increased. She had no idea what to tell him. He’d shoot her either way.

“Ahh, why suddenly so silent, you Nazi whore? Afraid of your death already? Do not fear, you’ll live long enough to run the gauntlet in town.” He removed his pistol, brutally kicking his boot into her sides, before he ordered, “Hogtie her and take her down to the market place with the other collaborators.”

The next moment, two hands grabbed her and threw her over a man’s shoulder, and he carried her away like a sack of flour, before he threw her atop the pile of booty on a lorry. With a shiver, she looked back on the image that would haunt her for the rest of her days. Richard’s pale face and blood splattering from his throat. Leaden bleakness settled in her soul and she closed her eyes, praying for a quick end.