CapturedbytheSS Read Online Free PDF

He chuckles softly into
my hair.
    I lied!
    He drags me down a dark hallway. After stopping in another
room, he turns on a light. We’re in the kitchen. My bare feet don’t even touch
the floor as he holds me firm in just one arm. He marches to a drawer and then
opens it. He pulls out a spool of thin, sand-colored rope. Leaving the rope on
the counter, he walks across the kitchen. His arm around me constricts as he
pulls open another drawer. Much to my concern, he retrieves a very long
knife.
    Oh dear.
    I wrestle against him, trying to break free, but his grip is
incredibly tight. After gathering the knife and the rope, he carries me back
toward the stairs. A bit panic-stricken about the items he’s holding, I
desperately try to formulate another plan. The minute he steps on the stairs, I
shove against the wall with my foot in an attempt to knock him off balance.
    “Stop it,” he orders, catching himself on the banister. “Do
you want me to shoot you? Because I will if you refuse to behave.”
    Oh yeah, I kinda forgot about that threat. “All right,” I
growl. “I’ll behave.” I stop fighting and let him carry me upstairs. He takes
me back to the same room.
    “You are the most unusual American spy I have ever
encountered,” he declares, setting me down. “Now sit down on the edge of the
bed.”
    Grudgingly, I comply. He sets down the rope and the knife on
the nightstand. He turns and zeroes in on my dangling handcuff. He only
chuckles softly as he unlocks it. After slipping his handcuffs back on his
belt, he merely studies me. I think he’s trying to determine how I picked the
lock.
    His gloved fingers brush through my hair. I’m not sure why I
notice, but his fingers feel strong and nimble.
    “Aha,” he murmurs, finding the pins. He gently pulls them
out. “You continue to surprise me with your tricks.” He gestures at me with my
bobby pins as he talks. My eyes unwillingly meet his. Pausing, he raises an
eyebrow quizzically at me. He wordlessly pockets the bobby pins as his piercing
eyes scrutinize me. Uncomfortable under his heavy stare, I pull my gaze away
and instead look down at the floor.
    His gloved fingers glide under my chin and tilt my face up.
I know he wants me to look at him, so I reluctantly cooperate. His eyes bore
into mine as he bends over slightly. He leans in closer to me. “Your eyes are different. I thought it was just the lighting at the checkpoint.”
    I look away from him and instead study the wall. I try to
pretend I don’t know what he’s talking about. In all honesty, I do.
    If I had to describe my comrades in only one word I would
say unfazed . It’s as if nothing ever bothers them or taxes them. It’s an
odd calmness that’s also reflected in their eyes. Don’t get me wrong, my fellow
agents are smart, clever, funny…they’re ordinary people really, but
just…unfazed.
    For example, if our superiors woke us up at three in the
morning and told us to go on a five-mile jog in the pouring rain, which they
sometimes did, my comrades literally didn’t care. They just got up, got dressed
and did it. Meanwhile, it took every ounce of strength I had not to complain or
mutter unhappily about it. I mean, seriously, who wants to go on a five-mile
jog at three in the morning in the pouring rain! But stuff like that just never
bothered the others. And if I tried to talk to them later about it with a
casual, “Hey, that jog was kinda tough this morning, huh?” they usually just
looked at me and asked, “What do you mean?”
    “Why are you so different?” my captor demands.
    I only study the wall, not wanting to meet his eyes. He
hitches my chin up higher, obviously wanting me to look at him. Angrily, I do.
He seems intrigued about something.
    “Answer me, fräulein. Why aren’t you like the
others?”
    In modern German, fräulein basically means little
girl and is more of a derogatory term now, though it once meant miss or young lady . It’s typically reserved for parents to