Текст книги "Reap"

Автор книги: Tillie Cole

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Chapter Four

221

I rocked in the corner, clawing at my skin. The pain hadn’t gone. The poison never cooled. Every minute, I spent fighting the pain, the rage.

I couldn’t sleep. The venom inside my veins kept me awake. I couldn’t remember anything of my life. Nothing but the face and voice of my master.

Lifting my head, I heard Master laughing across the room. He was sitting next to a strange man. He looked familiar.

Had I seen him before?

I couldn’t remember. The poison took all my memories away.

Lifting my hands, my muscles ached as they moved under the heavy chains wrapped around my wrist and ankles. My eyes stung, my head ticked as the pain swamped my mind.

Pressing the heels of my hands into my eyes, I tried to breathe, just as a voice made my head snap up.

My eyes met with Master’s and I began to pant. He’d want me to kill. I’d get to kill … stop the fire in my veins.

“221, davdget.” He ordered me to stand and my feet pressed flat to the ground. I forced my body to straighten and bowed my head.

Laughter rang out around the room.

“221, stand before me,” Master demanded.

Turning obediently in the direction of where he sat, I walked forward, ignoring the inner spikes of the cuffs around my ankles and wrists ripping into my skin.

Master was sitting in the room surrounded by many men. There was a ring in the middle. I was standing in the center of the ring, when Master walked beside me.

I gritted my teeth as he put an arm around my shoulder. “You’ve all been gathered here tonight to witness the effect of the drug you’re interested in purchasing.” A hand clapped over my chest and I growled as the hit sliced pain down to my stomach. My hands clenched together as I fought back the scream ripping up my throat. My skin was too itchy to touch. Too on fire to touch!

“This is 221, my prototype for the Type A drug. He answers to my every command. The drug offers one hundred percent obedience from subjects to their masters. It also provides muscle-building components, in addition to a chemical that erases the memories of who they once were. High levels of testosterone and other hormones create a conditioned response to kill, a need so strong in the subjects, it can drive them insane if their urges are not met.” Master laughed. “Perfect weapons against any rivals.”

Master stepped away, and I felt a guard move toward me. Reaching out, he unlocked the shackles round my wrists and ankles. As the chains fell to the floor, the need to kill began to take hold. When Master removed my chains, it was always time to kill.

Black metal hit my open palms and I immediately gripped whatever was in my hands. I looked down. The guard gave me two black sais. I rolled the metal in my grip. It felt familiar. My head tilted to the side as I studied the sharp blades. I knew how to use these weapons. The guard stepped back out of the ring.

I breathed, the room silent as I waited for Master to speak. I could smell sweat and hear the murmur of low voices. My muscles tensed as a surge of heat spread through my body.

“A demonstration!” Master shouted, and the voices around the room grew louder.

“221, mzad.” Master commanded me to ready myself, and my legs parted, my feet heavy on the concrete ground. My head snapped up.

A door opened behind me. In my peripheral vision, I saw the men in the room all sit forward, visibly excited.

My eyes stared straight forward, when Master commanded, “221, t’avis mkhriv.”

I turned, obeying the command, and a man stood before me holding a long chain with razors on its links. Rage built in my chest. Klavs, klavs, klavs—kill, kill, kill—I thought to myself. I gripped my sais tighter as the man smiled at me.

Klavs! KLAVS! I screamed inside my head.

The man began spinning his chain to the side, the heavy links smacking off the hard ground. The man before me was big. But not bigger than me. He couldn’t beat me. I would win. I always won.

“221, sikvidili.” Master ordered me to prepare to bring death. So I readied to bring nothing but death and pain.

“Now, gentlemen. As most are here from, or associated with, the Arziani gulags, and I set up this ring as an example of how the drugs work, 221 will not stop until I command him to, plowing through anyone put in his way.”

My skin shivered in anticipation as Master’s voice raised in volume. The chain belonging to the soon-to-be dead man before me kept spinning and spinning, gaining more and more speed.

“Let’s start this show, shall we?” Master announced. The room fell to silence. “221,” Master called, and every part of me braced for the attack. Seconds passed, then Master ignited my blood when he ordered me to kill. “Klavs!”

Letting my rage take hold, I rushed forward, sais braced as I stalked the dead meat. Lifting his hand, my prey swung the chain, heavy metal aiming for my head. Shifting to the side, I dodged the chain and plowed the long blade of my right sai into his side. Turning, the man had fallen to his knees, his chain falling to the ground. I approached his back and stared at his neck and hairless head. Bracing behind him, I raised both sais, and with a loud roar, sent them through either side of his skull.

Warm blood sprayed against my chest, the fire in my body pumping faster and faster. The man’s body dropped to the floor with a thud, blood pouring from his wounds.

Reaching for my sais, I ripped them from his head. Needing to see more blood run at my feet, I spun the sais in my hand then plunged them into the back of his neck and the front of his throat.

Stepping back, the flames inside pushing at my mind, I began to circle the ring.

I needed more. Needed more blood.

The men in the room were talking in loud voices, the sound stabbing at my mind. I circled and circled waiting for more.

I needed more, when—

“221, shech’erda!” Master’s loud voice cut through to my ears, ordering me to halt. My feet ground to a stop and my head bowed.

Excited murmurs rippled through the crowd.

“You see, gentlemen. One hundred percent obedience and effectiveness.” I breathed hard through my nostrils. My feet wanted to move, but Master’s command held me in check.

“Those who came from the gulags, I’m sure you’ll be happy with what you’ve seen. And those who have come from our other enterprises, please, allow me to demonstrate the Type B drug.”

Sounds of the doors opening again caught my attention. Quiet footsteps entered the ring. Then men started murmuring again, shifting in their seats.

“547 is the prototype for our Type B drug. It too offers obedience. A full willingness by the slave to do anything, and I mean anything. It’s infused with hormones that increase the woman’s libido and makes her pussy wet for hours, promising your clients endless fun. It also boasts a powerful contraceptive, so no unwanted pregnancies will occur.

“221,” Master called. My head snapped up. “Center of the ring.”

Turning, I walked to the center of the ring. My hands gripped on to the sais, and my teeth gritted with the need for more blood. But as I stood the ring, I felt someone was here with me. Someone I didn’t want to kill.

“221, drop your sais and take off your clothes.”

Opening my hands, the weapons dropped to the ground and I pulled down my pants.

“547,” Master called, “suck his cock.”

Keeping my head down, a female with dark hair dropped to her knees and took my cock in her small hands. Gritting my teeth at the feel of her warm hand stroking my dick, I fought back a roar. Without looking up, her hand started jerking my cock, faster and faster. My cock hardened and a growl ripped from my chest when she opened her mouth and swallowed me whole.

Grunts and snarls tore up my throat as her hot mouth sucked harder and harder. The venom in my blood flared. It burned hotter and hotter as her mouth sucked harder.

“547, shech’erda.” Master ordered her to stop, the female releasing my cock and dropping her hands.

It hurt.… I needed to come. I needed to come down her throat.

“221,” Master called next, “fuck 547 from behind … hard.” He laughed, then ordered, “And make her fucking bleed.”

Growling at Master’s command, I dropped to the floor on my knees. The female turned, pushing her wet cunt in my face. Reaching out, I gripped her hips, my fingers clawing into her flesh. Taking my cock, I aimed it at her hole, and in one hard thrust, rammed it inside.

My head snapped back as her cunt wrapped around me. The feel of it took over, the venom in my blood pushing me to take her harder and harder, faster and faster. I plowed into her over and over again, feeling pressure build in my thighs and travel up to fill my balls. Teeth gritted and jaw aching, I couldn’t hold back the roar that thundered out my throat as heat filled my body and I came, shooting into her cunt.

I breathed hard, and started moving again, my cock hardening as her cunt gripped it tight. Blood covered my cock. I’d made her bleed. I’d done as Master commanded.

“As you will see, gentlemen, both subjects won’t stop until ordered.”

I pushed harder into the female’s hole, the fire igniting again in my thighs.

Suddenly, the sound of a door bursting open filled the room. The crowd jumped to their feet as men holding guns entered the room and began to open fire.

I thrust faster into the female, when Master shouted, “547, ak’ movida—come here; 221, Get your sais and … sasaklao!”

Slaughter. Master ordered me to slaughter them all.

I pulled out of 547. The female ran to Master and I picked up my sais. The crowd was rushing for the door; the guards opened fire on the invading men.

“Klavs!” Master ordered again. Gripping the sais in my hand, I ran at the men firing guns. All I saw was a red mist as I knocked the first two to the ground, straddled their thighs, sinking my sais into their chests. They gurgled as blood drowned their throats, choking them out.

Rising to my feet, I fixed my gaze on my next target. But gunfire around me began quieting. Looking around, Master’s guards were lying dead on the ground.

Roaring in rage, I focused on the men with guns. They were running back down a narrow hallway, running from my sais. I had to follow them outside. I couldn’t let them live.

Raising my sais, I picked up my feet to run after the men. Cold air began flowing down the hall. But I picked up speed, following the men toward, then out of, an open door.

Fury coursed through me, the harsh beat of my heart thumping in my ears.

Klavs, klavs, klavs, my mind told me, my boiling blood thickening in my veins.

I would kill them all. Kill them all for Master.

Rushing through the open door, I barely felt the cold wrap around my naked skin. The invaders turned toward me and dropped their guns to the ground. I froze. I stared at their empty hands. Opening my clenched fists, I dropped my sais to the ground.

They ran at me in twos, but I knocked them down one by one. My fists crunched noses, broke arms, and snapped ribs. My knuckles bled, but they kept coming and I kept plowing them down.

A man came running at me. I stood my ground until he was only feet away … then as he reached to strike me, I dodged his fist and clutched his throat. Using the poison fueling my flesh, I roared and lifted him off the ground. Squeezing hard, I watched his eyes widen. I squeezed my hand tighter, hearing his breathing cut off. Blood drained from his face, and just before he took his last breath, I twisted my hand and snapped the invader’s neck.

Dropping his body to the ground, I whipped my head up at the sound of a van door opening. I braced when a man stepped forward. He was dressed like how Master dressed. The invaders swarmed around him, but his eyes focused on me.

“Knayz, he can’t be brought down. We need to kill him. He’s too far gone.”

The man stopped and growled, “No. We take him.”

“He can’t be stopped and we’re running out of time.”

“No!” the man snarled, but his eyes never left mine. He reached for his shirt and began unbuttoning the front. “I’ll take him.”

A man beside him stopped dead. “But you’re the knayz. The Pakhan ordered you not to fight.”

But the man kept coming, shedding his shirt to the ground, now only wearing a white vest showing his cut muscles. He approached me, fists clenched, his jaw tensed like mine.

I rushed forward and raised my fist to strike, but the man ducked and rammed his fist in my stomach. Pain sliced through me.

He was strong.

Gasping, I turned and swung, landing a hit on his lip. Blood immediately ran down his chin. But he came at me again. Grabbing my hair, I fought to get free. The man’s strength matched mine. He lifted his leg and sent his knee straight into my jaw.

Rage surged through me. I needed to kill … Klavs!

Storming toward him, I wrapped my arm around his waist and took him to the ground. His fists hammered into my ribs, but I pressed my forearm against his throat and pushed down. Face filled with anger, he reached up, hands gripping each side of my head. I pushed down harder, cutting off his breathing. His fingers clawed into my scalp, and with a strength I’d never encountered before, he began lowering my head. I fought back, pressed down harder against his throat. His face reddened from lack of air.

He would die. He would die.

His hands gripped tighter, and just when the fucker was running out of breath, he lifted his head and slammed it against mine. My arm slipped off his throat and he spun me on my back, wrapping my hands behind my back.

I fought to get free. My skin scorching from the poison in my veins. I couldn’t stand the feel of its heat.

“Now!” the man called. “In his neck, now!”

I thrashed against his hold, but I couldn’t break his grasp.

Klavs … Klavs … my mind ordered, Master’s words flooding my head. They wouldn’t stop, the words kept stabbing at my brain. The poison, the pain, the hold. I couldn’t fucking break free!

I heard footsteps beside me, then a pain suddenly stabbed in my neck. I roared and rammed my elbow into my captor’s ribs. I thrashed to get free. Rolling to the side, I jumped to my feet, but I couldn’t see straight. My skin was too hot and dripped with sweat. I tried to walk but my feet wouldn’t move.

The man who’d fought me got to his feet. I blinked away the blur in my eyes. My gaze went to the man. His face was pale as he stared at me. He was mouthing words, firing orders to his men, but only the sound of my own breathing filled my ears.

I tried to reach for the man, my mind telling me to fight, to kill, to create carnage. But as I stepped forward, my knees buckled and I hit the ground hard. Arms grabbed me and began dragging my limp body across the hard ground.

I tried to pull away but my muscles wouldn’t move.

I lifted my eyes, the man was still staring. My skin crawled, my muscles tensed and I wanted to kill. Slit his throat, slice him with my sais.

I heard van doors open, and I was dragged off the ground. My eyes began to close, then suddenly everything faded to black.… The last image I saw was the man looking to the sky and taking a deep breath. I remembered his face, remembered it so if I awoke, his would be the first heart I’d make sure I stopped.

Chapter Five

Talia

Tolstoi Country Estate

West Hampton, New York

Sitting at the window of the living room, I stared out at a dark overcast sky. The light from the lighthouse circled lazily in the near distance, beckoning sailors home. Round, round, round, its hypnotic rhythm relaxed me as I sipped my coffee.

Ilya and Savin, my personal byki, walked in the grounds, my gaze catching the flicker of their movement in the moonlight. Both were dressed in black and as quiet as the night.

I felt safe.

I’d only been here a couple of days, and already I felt at peace. The beach, the salty sea air, this colonial-style house and most important, away from my Bratva cage in Brooklyn.

Taking another sip of my coffee, my free hand subconsciously lifted to run over the necklace I always wore around my neck. My babushka’s—my grandmother’s—necklace, the necklace she’d given me just before she died a few years ago. This delicate chain of gold had been my dedushka’s—my grandfather’s. It was the Tolstoi crest given to him as a boy. All Vor V Zakone received them from their fathers, all Thieves in Law, she had told me. It was a statement of honor. One he passed to her to keep close to her heart when he was gone on business.

I ran the pad of my thumb over the pendent and remembered the woman I’d regarded as my best friend, who just “got me.” Babushka was the world’s biggest romantic. And she’d loved my dedushka with all her heart, only to lose him at a young age. She never got over him and lit a candle every day at church in his honor.

All she had left of him was this necklace. A necklace she’d given to me as a symbol that one day I would find my true love, too.

She had wanted that for me so badly—to love another as fully as she had loved him.

I desperately wanted that, too.

I heard the back door open, and Ilya and Savin entered the room, each standing at opposite windows.

I rolled my eyes. “Surely no one threatening is going to be here in the Hamptons … in winter. It’s the reason we came out here. Practically no one else around.” My father hadn’t been happy about my wanting to leave Brooklyn for a while. With the new Georgian threat, he wanted me close for protection. But with my mother’s help, eventually he caved. Our compromise for my vacation—our summer home in the Hamptons. I was good with the deal. It was far enough away from home, and quiet enough for me to finally relax.

Neither of my byki listened to my complaint about their patrol. My father had made sure I had my guards with me. I didn’t ever know much about Bratva business, but I knew Savin and Ilya were checking we hadn’t been followed. I got that we were on high alert. I got that I was a huge target for the Georgians. From what I could surmise from Savin and Ilya’s quiet whispers was that the boss of the Jakhua clan was insane. And he was to be feared. He was a genuine threat to our position in Brooklyn. That meant I had to endure their constant surveillance.

Leaving the guys to their searching of the house, I looked out onto the rough sea crashing against our private beach, at the tide always chasing the shore, unable to stay away too long.

It made me feel poetic. What was it about the sound of waves rolling and the sea foam kissing the sleeping sand that was so soothing?

Noticing headlights traveling up our private country road, I frowned. “Ilya, Savin, someone’s coming,” I called out.

My heart beat a little faster, nerves swelling in my veins a little more than usual. I placed my coffee on the table beside me. No one knew we were here. Papa hadn’t told anyone for the sake of my safety.

Unless …

“Who could it be?” I asked Ilya, and moved to the center of the room.

Ilya waved me over to stand by him and pushed me behind his back. He looked to Savin. “Did you get a phone call from Mikhail or the knayz? Are we expecting anyone?”

Savin shook his head, watching the TV monitor as the car came to a slow stop at the security gate. The buzzer pressed and Savin answered the call.

“Yes?” he said curtly.

“Savin, or is that Ilya? It’s Kisa, can you let me in?”

I frowned as I saw Kisa lean to the camera, her face coming into view. I nodded my head to Savin, and he opened the electric gate.

Why was Kisa driving herself? And more than that, why had she left Luka in Brooklyn?

I made my way to the front door. Wrapping my long gray cardigan around my pink tank and black leggings, I opened the door just as Kisa stepped onto the porch.

She looked pale and worried, so I stepped back from the door. “Come in, sweetie.”

Kisa entered the hallway and I quickly hugged her in greeting. Ilya and Savin placed themselves in sight. Moving away from me, Kisa slipped off her jacket and I watched her curiously. “Kisa? Are you okay?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her in a few days. She looked bad then, but she looked worse now.

She turned to me but her eyes were vacant.

“Kisa?” I prompted, and reached out to touch her arm. She was wearing a creased thin white sweater, a skintight pair of jeans, and Chucks. Kisa never ever looked anything less than perfect and polished. She was dressed too casual, looked too rumpled and tired. Something was seriously wrong.

“I—” Kisa had barely opened her mouth to answer me, when another set of lights flared at the gate of the private road. Savin immediately sprang into action and moved to the surveillance camera.

“It’s a van,” he reported to Ilya. “One of ours.”

I turned to question what was happening, then Kisa sighed, seemingly in relief. She pressed her hand to her forehead, breathing out through her mouth.

“Kisa? What’s happening? Who else is coming? Why are you here?” I rapidly asked in an increasingly shorter tone.

Her blue eyes snapped to mine. “It’s Luka,” she said, just as I heard Savin utter a “Yes, sir!” The electronic gates opened once again.

“Luka? Why?” I had to know, but Savin and Ilya were already opening the front door and rushing to the graveled driveway.

Kisa headed toward me and, taking my hand, pulled me away from the door. I let her lead me to one side. I could see by Kisa’s expression that she was preoccupied; no, worried. My stomach sank. Something bad had happened tonight. Something big.

Savin came running through the door. His eyes quickly sought mine. “Ms. Tolstaia, where’s the basement key?”

“Why?” I asked, but Savin’s cold, piercing expression told me there was no time for explanation.

My eyes narrowed at everyone’s lack of explanation. Quickly, Kisa moved into the kitchen. “In here,” she said, urgently summoning Savin.

The sound of vehicle doors opening outside drifted to the hallway. Voices were raised and orders were quickly issued. Savin came rushing back through to the hallway, unlocking the always-locked door that led to the basement.

I’d never been down there; in all these years coming here in summer I’d never even opened the door. It was Papa’s private place and so it was forbidden. I had never thought to question him.

As the sound of people approaching came through the doorway, I moved beside an anxious-looking Kisa. Placing my hand on her back, I asked, “Why’s Luka here? Please tell me what’s happening. I’m starting to freak the hell out!”

With glistening eyes, she looked to me, whispering, “Luka went into the Jakhua Georgian headquarters tonight. I don’t know how much you know about them being back in Brooklyn, but it’s a delicate situation, and—”

My stomach flipped and my heart pounded in my chest. “What? Why would Luka do something crazy like that?” I interrupted.

“Because of 362.” This was all she said in response, then her eyes misted over.

I shook my head in confusion, holding up my hand. “I don’t understand, I don’t—” My sentence was cut off when several of my father’s byki rushed through the door, dragging an enormous, unconscious naked man in their arms. My eyes widened when I scanned the massive lapse body.

Stepping back from the fray, I held my breath as the byki took the man downstairs. My eyes were glued to the entrance of the basement, my mouth parted in shock.

Above the commotion, I suddenly heard Kisa gasp. I followed her gaze to the doorway. Luka had stepped through. He was shirtless but for a bloodied vest, his dress pants dirtied and torn. His large body was covered in purple and black bruises, his face swollen and bloodied. He looked like hell. He looked the same as he did when he’d killed Alik Durov in the Dungeon’s cage six months ago.

“Luka!” Kisa cried, and rushed forward until she stood before him. She lifted her hands but stopped herself from cupping his face. “What have you done? You weren’t meant to fight! You’re hurt,” she whispered, and his gaze softened as it fell on her.

“Solnyshko,” he said, and wrapped her in his arms.

“You got him,” Kisa said, quickly forgetting her frustration at Luka being hurt. Her light voice was laced with relief.

“Yes,” Luka replied, and his arms tightened around her waist.

Kisa gripped his arms. “I was so worried. I thought … I was terrified you’d be hurt. That you wouldn’t come back to me.” She stepped back, allowing her gaze to slowly drink in his body. “Luka, what happened? You know the knayz doesn’t fight shoulder to shoulder with his men. He commands. He stays back. He needs to be protected.”

I frowned as Luka’s jaw clenched at Kisa’s words. He ran a nervous hand through his messy fair hair. “No one could subdue him. He came at us like a rabid dog. I knew…” Luka’s fists clenched then unclenched. “I knew I was the only person who could stop him, without having to shoot him.” His face dropped as if lost in his thoughts. “I … I know how he feels. Only I know how to fight his level of strength and skill.” He fixed his gaze on his wife. “Something inside of me instinctively reacted to his rage. Whatever demon is within him, lives in me, too.”

Devastation swept through me. Luka was struggling more than I had realized.

“It’ll be better now, lyubov moya,” Kisa soothed. “You got him. You got Anri’s brother back from Jakhua.”

The sad expression on Luka’s weary face cut me to the quick. His hold on Kisa further stabbed at my heart. She was his gravity, the one thing that kept him grounded, sane. “He … he…” Luka rasped through a tight throat. “He looks just like him. It was like seeing a ghost when he ran out onto the docks.” Luka’s eyes lost focus. “His size, his hair, the weapons he fought with, his features, are all identical, except…”

“Except what?” Kisa asked as she pulled back to search her husband’s wrought face.

Luka lifted his fingers to his eye. “He has green eyes. 362, Anri, had brown eyes.”

Luka’s face seemed to contort at something, a memory perhaps? “I’ve … I’ve never seen a man so gone. He was filled with more rage than any fighter I’ve faced. He never stopped coming at us, killing anyone in his path.” My brother’s eyes filled with tears. Luka swallowed and pressed his forehead to Kisa’s. “I don’t know if he can be saved. I don’t know how to save him. The drug he’s on…”

Kisa wrapped her arms around Luka again, but my attention drifted back to the basement.

I don’t know if he can be saved.…

Luka’s words ran through my mind. He knew this man’s brother? I wanted to ask one of the many questions that were popping in my brain, but now was not the time. Luka looked destroyed.

Noises, sounding like heavy chains rattling, drifted upstairs. Silently moving closer to the open basement door, my curiosity won out and I found myself at the top of the steep unfamiliar wooden staircase leading down.

I quietly tiptoed down the stairs, my heart racing at what I might see. As the wall gave way to a view of the open basement, I stilled, drinking in my father’s idea of a basement, a “private space”—rubber flooring covered every inch of the space, the walls, the floor, everywhere. And chain links were bolted to the walls, a single plastic chair the central feature of the sterile room. And the stench of bleach was so overwhelming I flinched as I inhaled each breath of stagnant air. There were no windows, so no natural light, just a solitary lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. The room was a black box.

Nausea built in my stomach when I realized what the room was used for—the Bratva’s enemies. For interrogation, torture. It made sense. No one lived close. Screams could go unheard. Cell service was nonexistent, the grounds completely secure. No one would ever suspect that in this perfect white wooden colonial mansion was a hidden torture room.

My breath caught in my throat as I took in the sight. Then the byki stepped away from whatever they were doing by the far wall. They were all covered in blood, sweat, and dirt. They looked as though they’d taken one hell of a beating.

As they cleared away from the object of their attention, my eyes fixed onto the huge dark man they’d just dragged in. That they’d carried unconscious through the front door. My heart raced as I stared at his naked body. He was one of the tallest and bulkiest men I’d ever seen. His muscles were many, ripped and taut. And a large chest tattoo stood out through the heavy coating of blood. I scrunched my eyes to see what it said. My eyes widened as I read the numbers “221” in bold black ink. The numbers took up all of his chest. It was an identity tattoo, exactly like the one Luka had … just different numbers.

God! I thought as I continued to stare at the man’s battered and bruised sleeping form. Even out cold he radiated power … danger. I’d never seen anyone like him. It both scared and intrigued me.

Who are you? Why are you beaten? I asked in my mind as my eyes traveled farther down his body. He was naked, scars littering every inch of his skin. Burn marks, and other strange markings covered his torso and chest. Then my eyes drifted lower. His long flaccid cock was bared and hanging low on his thigh. I swallowed at the sight and I could feel my face flush as I struggled to turn my gaze away.

He looked like a scarred blood-covered slave of some kind. Like something you’d see in a fucked-up Roman-era movie.

My thighs clenched together and I felt heat spread throughout my body and down between my legs. The reaction I was having was new and terrifying but I couldn’t look away. I was transfixed, my mind racing with thoughts of why he was so important that he was brought here to be interrogated.

Then I frowned as my gaze focused on something else. He was caged and chained to the wall. His wrists and ankles were in short chains, ensuring he couldn’t escape. Even though he looked to be the most dangerous man I’d ever laid my eyes on, my heart cracked at the realization that he wouldn’t be able to move, that he would be in pain.

Noticing the byki beginning to move back toward the stairs, I crept back to the hallway, following the sound of Kisa and Luka talking in the kitchen.

Pulling myself together, I tried to shake the image of the man slumped brokenly on the floor, and joined the others.

Kisa saw me enter as she cleaned Luka’s wounds, his hands gripping tightly to his waist. As I saw them in the kitchen, and heard the byki moving to clear the van from the driveway, anger bubbled up threatening to erupt.