~ Powers of Nations: A Countryhumans Chronicle

▶Chapter:76◀

The chapter:

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Warning⚠.

3rd person pov:

The morning light was just beginning to seep into the room, casting a soft glow on the walls. Russia moved through the house with a sluggish pace, his body heavy with exhaustion. The tension from the night before still clung to him like a dark cloud, making every step feel like a struggle.

America trailed behind him, his eyes never leaving Russia's form. The cuffs that bound them together clinked softly with each movement, a constant reminder of the situation they were both trapped in. America had tried to engage Russia in conversation, attempting to break the uncomfortable silence that had settled between them. But each time, Russia responded with short, dismissive answers, his tone clipped and cold.

It was clear Russia had no interest in talking, but America’s patience was wearing thin. The curt responses and cold demeanor were getting under his skin, his frustration simmering just below the surface.

“Russ,” America called out, trying once more to get his attention. “You need to stop acting like this.”

Russia didn’t even bother to turn around, his response barely audible. “Leave me alone.”

That was the final straw. America’s frustration boiled over, and without warning, he reached out, grabbing Russia by the cuffs and yanking him roughly toward him. Russia stumbled, a startled yelp escaping his lips as he was pulled back into America’s chest. His heart raced with sudden fear, his mind scrambling to catch up with what was happening.

“Listen to me when I’m talking to you,” America growled, his voice low and dangerous. His grip on the cuffs was tight, almost bruising, as he pulled Russia closer, forcing their faces inches apart.

Russia’s breath hitched, a mixture of fear and pain flashing in his eyes. He tried to pull away, but America’s hold was unyielding. Before he could utter a word of protest, he felt America’s hand move to his back, searching for something.

And then, America’s fingers found one of Russia’s wings through the fabric of his shirt. With deliberate intent, he gripped it tightly, applying a painful pressure. Russia gasped, his body stiffening in response to the sudden jolt of pain that shot through him.

“Don’t act like you can ignore me,” America hissed, his voice laced with menace. He tightened his grip even more, squeezing the delicate structure of the wing as if it were nothing more than a toy for him to break. The sensation was unbearable, the pain radiating from his wing through his entire body.

Russia couldn’t hold back the scream that tore from his throat, the sound raw and filled with agony. His wings were incredibly sensitive, and America knew that. He knew exactly what he was doing, exploiting Russia’s weakness without a second thought.

“Please—stop—” Russia begged, his voice trembling with pain. He tried to twist out of America’s grip, but every movement only seemed to increase the pressure on his wing. Tears welled up in his eyes, the pain becoming too much to bear.

But America showed no mercy. His grip remained firm, and he leaned in closer, his breath hot against Russia’s ear. “You think you can just dismiss me like that?” he sneered, his voice cold and unforgiving. “I’m not someone you can ignore, Russ.”

Russia’s breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling as the pain in his wing intensified. He felt utterly powerless, trapped in America’s grasp with no way to escape. His mind was overwhelmed by the torment, the sharp, unrelenting pain that seemed to consume him entirely.