Ravage

  The heavy chains fell away, yet Valentin didn’t move. The woman stepped back until she was beside my bed, and she ordered, “194, come to me!”

  Valentin walked forward, his body obeying the woman’s command. When he halted before her and she looked down at me still strapped on the bed, my body washed with dread. “194,” she said with a smile on her face, “capture Zaal Kostava. Return him to me within the day—dead or alive.”

  “Yes, Mistress,” Valentin stated without question.

  As I heard the sound of Valentin leaving to capture my brother, I was sure I would never be whole again.

  I remained still and turned my head away from the woman in the room. A hand on my arm caused me to turn back. Strangely, I didn’t feel pain. The woman had injected me with a serum that was like liquid fire flowing into my veins. I didn’t react when she injected me with yet another syringe. And I didn’t react as she picked up a third. Only at the fourth and fifth injection did I realize that she was trying to kill me.

  The only time I reacted at all,was when the woman bent down to my ear and whispered harshly, “This is for Levan Jakhua, Kostava whore. After tomorrow, there will be no more of your family left to plague the Earth. After tomorrow, the love of my life can finally rest in peace—knowing the last of your poisonous hearts have stopped.”

  18

  194

  Capture and retrieve Kostava.

  Capture and retrieve Kostava.

  The van rocked from side to side as it took me to my hit. My hands reached out and held on to the bars of the cage, pulling at the metal, trying to release some of the rage deep inside.

  Capture and retrieve Kostava rolled around my mind and as it did pictures of his face flashed behind my eyes. Tall, muscled, Georgian. Long hair. Green eyes.

  Capture and retrieve Kostava.

  I held my head when a bright pain slammed through my brain. It hit again and again, and a pair of brown eyes stuck in my mind. My body shivered when the eyes wouldn’t move. My hands shook when the eyes told me I had to remember something. I tried and tried to remember the brown eyes; then Mistress’s voice in my head screamed, “Capture Kostava!” My blood boiled and the collar around my neck tightened.

  Rage built in my veins, until it burned and burned, and I roared out in anger. My feet kicked at the cage, heavy boots the Wraith had made me wear slamming against the metal.

  I struck the cage again and again until the van came to a stop.

  I crouched in the cage needing to kill, ready to kill, whoever waited past that door. I waited and waited, until the van door opened and a Wraith snapped the lock off the cage.

  Pushing on the metal door, I charged from the cage, snapping the neck of the Wraith, hissing at the sound of crunching bones.

  Throwing the lifeless body to the ground, I jumped out of the van, the smell of salty air hitting my face. I looked left and right, then pulled the dark hood of my black sweatshirt over my head. Everywhere was dark and quiet.

  I scanned the area, listening to the crash of waves behind me. Broken piers and dark sand sat on one side; old broken-down houses and empty shores sat on the other.

  I broke into a run, keeping to the shadows. The cold wind whipped around me as I ran and I ran, my mind tracing the streets that would lead me to my hit. Store signs creaked as they swung in the wind. Boarded-up store windows were covered in graffiti.

  I kept running, capture Kostava, capture Kostava still circling my mind. But something else tried to force its way in, making my hands ball in anger. Something else I was meant to remember.

  But I couldn’t remember. I couldn’t remember. Suddenly my feet stumbled, lurching my body into a fallen brick wall. Brown eyes flooded my brain again. Brown eyes and soft lips mouthing, Ya tozhe tebya lyublyu. I love you, too, I love you, too.…

  I bit back a roar as a female’s face came into view, making me stumble again. I knew the face. I knew the face, but I couldn’t remember why. Kotyonok, whispered in my head. Just as the fog seemed to clear, the collar tightened around my throat and a new wave of fire flooded through my veins, taking the face away.

  My hand slammed on a house wall to my right. I fought to breathe through the pain. My legs kept running, Mistress’s voice commanding me to capture and retrieve Zaal Kostava—dead or alive.

  Darkness smothered my mind, leaving only one thought—capture and retrieve Kostava.

  Sweat from my body dripped down my skin; then the darkness lifted again. My legs shook, something pushing Mistress from my mind.

  My head switched back and forth, back and forth, between Mistress’s voice and the female with the brown eyes telling me she loved me.

  I had rounded a corner when suddenly the brownstone came into view. Lights were on inside, people moving past the windows. I halted, my breathing low and hard as I prepared for my kill. Lights turned the corner, and I ducked into an alley as a car moved past.

  I blinked, and blinked again, as I saw a female in my head; she then appeared before me. I reached out, but my hands sliced through thin air, the female disappearing. I stumbled against a wall, my back hitting the hard brick. I shook my head and rubbed my eyes.

  Capture and retrieve Kostava.

  Capture and retrieve Kostava.

  Mistress’s voice always in my head forced me to stand straight. Forced me to obey her command. My eyes again concentrated on the brownstone, back on task. I moved to step forward, but that brown-eyed female in my head was there in front of me again. I could see her like she was real, dressed in black, holding a photograph in her hand. Suddenly she moved toward the house—I realized it was a memory trapped in my brain. I’d been here before. I’d watched this house before. I’d grabbed out to pull the female back and taken her to the torture chamber.

  The female apparition looked so real to my eyes that I still reached out. As I did, my hand clutched at nothing but cold air, the female misting and fading into the background.

  Clutching my head as a hot pain sliced through my skull, I hid back in the shadows. Sweat poured from my face; then I felt my collar tighten again. No! I thought, unable to take any more of the poison running through my veins.

  Another surge of blazing heat surged through my veins. And I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand it. But a clear command filtered through.

  Capture and retrieve Kostava.

  I scanned the street. Straight ahead I saw a man in black walking down an alley—the back entrance to the house.

  Without making a sound, I crossed the dark street, snow crunching lightly beneath my feet. I pressed myself into the shadows and turned the corner into alley. Four males stood there with guns. Guards.

  Breathing deep, I rounded the corner and sneaked up to the first male. Snapping his neck, I dragged him backward into a garden, removing his gun from his jacket. I checked the model—silencer.

  Good.

  Jumping back into the alley, I held out the gun and fired three shots, each piercing the head of a guard. Throwing the gun to the ground, I climbed the wall of the house that held Kostava. A guard stood just below the wall. Jumping down to land at his back, I wrapped my arm around his neck and squeezed. The guard clawed at my arms, but with a twist of his neck he silently collapsed to the ground.

  I had made to move toward the back door when the blinding pain came back. Dropping to my knees, I gripped my head. The pair of brown eyes flashed at me. I gasped for breath as the name Kostava again circled in my head.

  I had to capture or kill Kostava, but I loved a Kostava, too? I didn’t understand; my mind swam with dark fog. My skull ached, and pushing to my feet, I swayed. I hit the side of my head, my vision clearing to see stone steps that rose to the back door.

  Kostava.

  I silently ran up the steps. Seeing people sitting in a room through the glass, I scanned their faces. Three women, four men. Then my body cooled when it recognized Zaal Kostava as the one standing just beyond the door.

  Sweat began to pour down my face, my skin too hot. My legs
too weak. My mind too heavy. Just as my foot smashed through the door, the brown eyes filled my head. But this time they were crying; my heart ached in my chest. I wanted to hold her. I wanted her because she was mine.

  I had to kill Kostava to get her back.

  Plowing forward, I ran straight into Zaal Kostava just as he turned to look my way. I slammed into his body, bringing him to the floor. My fist flew into his face, my hard punches colliding with his jaw.

  I heard women screaming. I heard men shouting orders. As I was about to deliver another blow, rage taking hold, I was flipped onto my back, a strong fist immediately striking my face. The hits rained down until I kicked out my legs. I moved to get to my feet, but the blinding pain came back. I clutched at my head; the pain ripped through my fucking skull. Then a face flashed in my head, but this time the face stayed.

  “Valentin,” she whispered softly, and I held out my hand for her to take.

  “Zoya,” I growled, trying to touch her face. “Kotyonok,” I whispered back, and I saw her smile.

  Rough hands grabbed at my arms and pulled back my hood. I blinked at the flood of light. I looked up to see the bloodied face of Zaal Kostava staring back.

  “Kostava,” I slurred. “Zoya’s brother.”

  “Zoya? My Zoya? Where’s Zoya?” the man pushed before another man came into view.

  I tried to meet their eyes, but my vision began to blur. “Capture or kill Kostava,” I rasped, and pulled at my neck’s metal collar. I pulled and pulled until I felt blood trickle down my neck. I couldn’t remember why I needed this gone. I simply knew that I had to rip the collar off. Mistress’s voice came to me once more, and I whispered, “Capture and retrieve—alive or dead.”

  Then my body failed to move and the room spun into a black hole.

  I heard low voices in the background, but I couldn’t open my eyes. My head felt heavy. My memory was shattered in pieces.

  The voices came nearer, and when they did I heard they were speaking Russian.

  Russian?

  I hadn’t heard Russian since I was in the orphanage.

  Or since Zoya.

  Zoya!

  The thought of Zoya had my body arching, trying to get free, but my hands and feet were tied down.

  I fought and fought, until I forced my eyes to open. My breath came out in short pants and my body was hot, sweat dripping down my face. My vision was blurred. I blinked until my eyes cleared. As clear vision returned, I found I was in a house, in what looked like a living room. I turned my head, trying to track the voices, but when I moved my neck pain seized my throat. I hissed at the pain, and anger asserted its grip.

  I shook with the rage burning through my blood. I fought to remember what the hell had happened. Splintered memories floated to the surface—Mistress finding us in the chamber, cages, being locked away, Tasers, Zoya being tied to a bed, Mistress tying me to a pole, attaching a collar, a command to kill …

  “Fuck!” I roared, and thrashed in the seat, desperate to get free. Feet came running into the room. I looked up to see a blond woman staring down at me. I opened my mouth to speak, but my throat was raw.

  She ran out of the room. I heard voices, then several pairs of feet entering the room afterward. My hands had balled into fists when suddenly two men stood before me.

  I traced the height of these males from their feet to their heads. I blinked, somehow knowing I’d seen them before. One man was blond with dark brown eyes. His stare was cold. He was built and looked like he could kill on the spot. But when I looked at the second male, my heart pounded.

  Zaal Kostava.

  “Kostava,” I managed to rasp out. He was huge, bigger than I’d imagined. I saw his picture in my head, one that Mistress had trained me to memorize. He looked exactly the same. The only difference was his long hair, which was tied back.

  Kostava’s green eyes blazed with fury as he stared me down. His face was swollen and his lips were bloodied. I squeezed my eyes shut and remembered storming into the house but having no control of why I attacked. After that my memory was hazy. It never was; I remembered everything. But not this.

  “Who are you working for?”

  I opened my eyes, and the blond man was speaking to me in Russian.

  “You’re Russian?” I managed a reply. His head tilted to the side, and as he stared I asked, “Where am I?” My mind was too slow, information not coming to me fast enough.

  “You tell me,” the man bit back.

  My focus drifted back to Kostava, and I spoke before I could stop myself. “I was sent for him.”

  I tried to catch the reason why in my head. Then I remembered Zoya on the bed. “Zoya,” I gasped, trying to keep hold of the memory before it slipped away again.

  This time Kostava slammed his hands on the arms of the chair I was in. “That’s the third time you’ve said her name. Where is she?” His harsh words dripped with venom. But I was just as mad as him.

  Zoya was mine.

  I owned her.

  I had to save her. A dark-haired female huddled in the corner of a cell was the next memory to slam into my mind. I choked on a scream but managed to roar out, “Inessa!”

  Kostava stepped back. The male beside him grabbed the hand that was about to plow into my face. I pulled at the ties and demanded, “Untie me … have to save them.” I inhaled and fought the razors slicing my throat apart, stealing my voice. “I have to save them.… From Mistress—”

  Both males froze, then looked at each other. Bending down, the blond asked, “Who is Mistress?”

  My teeth clenched as he questioned me rather than letting me go. Finally I calmed enough to snap, “The fucking … bitch Georgian … that controls me!”

  “Georgian,” the blond pushed as Kostava began to pace.

  “Mistress Arziani,” I replied, “the sister of the Master of the Blood Pit.”

  The blond man’s eyes pulled down. When he stood, he asked, “Where did you get the number tattoo, 194?”

  My muscles tensed, but I replied, “The Blood Pit. When the Night Wraiths stole me and my sister in the night and drove us to that hell.”

  “Explain,” the blond pushed again.

  Taking breath, I said, “I have to get back. I have to save them.” Feeling the fog lifting from my head minute by minute, I could see Inessa and Zoya, both trapped with Mistress, and shouted, “You need to fucking let me go!”

  The blond cracked his knuckles and said, “Not until we know who you are and why you tried to kill Zaal.”

  I dropped my head, and as I did I winced at the raw pain of my skin. The pain faded when I realized … “You removed the collar?”

  Kostava stopped and looked down at me but otherwise gave nothing away. “The serum,” I said. “Mistress gave me too much. Loaded the pellets with too much poison to ensure I got the kill. My head…,” I trailed off, wincing at the dull ache.

  The blond informed me, “We removed it. The serum was an obedience drug. We have a male who has been studying it. He’s developed a serum to counteract the effects. Sometimes it works; sometimes it doesn’t. With you, we were fortunate. It brought you back fairly quickly.” I stared at the blond; then I remembered something that Zoya had said: My brother, Zaal Kostava, is marrying a Tolstaia. My brother, the Lideri of the Kostava Clan, is marrying into the Volkov Bratva.

  “The Bratva,” I said quietly. “The Volkov Bratva.”

  The blond didn’t look affected by what I had said, but he asked, “Who told you that?”

  I flicked my eyes to Zaal and said, “Zoya. She said her brother was marrying a Tolstaia, a member of the Bratva. She said if we came to you, you would help us.”

  “Help you what?” the blond pushed.

  “Kill my Mistress and rescue my sister.”

  “What’s wrong with your sister?”

  “Mistress has her drugged and captured. She’s a mona—a sex slave. Mistress uses her to control me. She gives her to men to fuck, makes me watch, then promises that after my next hi
t she’ll let me see her again. It never happens, but I can’t leave her there alone. Mistress took her name, like she did mine, and also give her a number, 152.”

  Zaal Kostava suddenly went still. The blond Russian noticed and looked to him. “What?” he asked.

  Zaal’s jaw was clenched, but he dropped his head, his eyes darting from side to side like he was remembering something. “I think I know that number,” he said quietly, then looked up, face paling. “Jakhua. Jakhua had a mona, a slave … 152, I think? I think he used her to advertise the Type B drug.”

  At his words all of the blood drained from my body and I said, “Master Jakhua? You knew Master Jakhua?”

  Zaal this time replaced the blond Russian and said, “You knew him?”

  My body stiffened, and I said, “He was my Mistress’s lover. He was the bastard that gave me the collar when I was twelve. He designed it for me, for my Mistress, when I was training in the Blood Pit. He was developing the serum there, in the labs. He turned me into this. A torturer and killer.” I smiled coldly, not even noticing Zaal, too lost in the memory. “But they never knew it only worked on me temporarily. I made them think I was completely under their control. But I remembered everything. I remembered everything, so when the day came I could get my revenge.”

  I panted, my muscles braced for that fight, when I noticed that the room had fallen silent. I lifted my head to see the Russian blond and Zaal Kostava completely frozen on the spot. “What?” I asked.

  “Where is the Blood Pit? What is it?” the blond questioned urgently.

  “Georgia. It’s where the Arzianis bring all of the gulag champion fighters for the Ultimate Death Matches. It’s where they train the fighters from kids, the Ubitsy and the monebi—the sex slaves—before selling them on to the highest bidders, or keeping them in the pit for the gamblers’ entertainment.”

  “Gulags?” the blond prompted, his voice now sharp and ice cold.

  I nodded slowly. “The Arzianis run all the gulags around the world, and choose champions to bring to the Blood Pit for high-stakes gambling. They gamble on who will be the Blood Pit Champion.”