But Zaal. Zaal was nothing but unleashed aggression. His wrists were sliced and bleeding raw as he’d wrenched on the chains, and he never stopped trying to break free. It was like something tortured him, driving him to never stop.
Placing the laptop at my side, I ran to the bathroom. With trembling hands, I turned on the cold faucet and splashed the icy water on my face.
Who could do that to another person? I thought in sadness. Who could morally condition someone to be that brutal, that wild? That pained and insane?
But as I lifted my head and my brown eyes stared back at me in the vanity’s mirror, I remembered the broken and scared look in Zaal’s jade green eyes as his gaze lasered straight down the lens of the camera.
Yes, he was vicious. Yes, he was wild, but in that split second there was something more. Something of the real Zaal Kostava still lived inside him. I was sure.
Walking back to my bed, exhausted and wrought, I slipped under the covers. I closed my eyes, but my mind still wouldn’t switch off.
Before I knew it, I’d reached for my laptop, and with a deep breath, I opened the surveillance icon. Zaal’s frantic pacing immediately filled the screen.
Placing the laptop on my side dresser, I lay back on the pillow watching Zaal, the only living heir of the Kostavas, gradually lose his mind in my papa’s basement.
As the next two weeks passed, I became completely obsessed.
My days centered around Zaal, watching him slowly breakdown. Watching him shake, sweat, and strike out at anyone who went near. I watched Luka try to talk to him, to calm him down. But Zaal would only snarl and lash out. I watched as he endlessly vomited, like he was going cold turkey off heroin. And I watched nightly as the byki subdued him with Tasers, in order to drug him to sleep, just to attach IV packs of food and fluids to keep him alive.
And I watched as Luka gradually lost hope that Zaal could be saved, until my father and the Pakhan called him back to help in the igniting war with the Georgians only a couple of days after he and Kisa arrived.
Fourteen days had passed and Zaal had made no progress whatsoever.
Racking pain filled my chest when his strength waned, when he couldn’t move off the floor. He would sleep for hours, lying prone on the cold ground.
I lost all hope, my obsession with this man dominating my entire life. Then one day Zaal had stopped moving altogether. His lifeless body, one day, had chosen not to wake up.
And that was the day everything changed.
Chapter Six
Zaal
“Come here, Son.” Turning from playing in the garden, I saw my father calling me to the table to eat. I ran toward my father, and he led me to the porch where my mother, sisters, and brothers already sat. My grandmama sat at the head of the table and winked at me.
I laughed.
Father said a prayer, and then told us to eat. As I picked up a piece of bread from the basket, a loud crash sounded in the house. Father looked toward the house. He snapped his finger and thumb, ordering the guards to go and find out who it was, but they didn’t move. They stared at my father and their eyes narrowed. My brother looked at me and frowned.
“Move!” my father commanded. Instead, the guards lifted their guns … lifted them at the table. My sisters screamed, my baby brother cried … but my twin reached out and took my hand. I looked at him and he looked at me. I squeezed his hand. Be strong, he mouthed, keep strong.
“What are you doing?” Father asked the guards and rose from his seat, just as tens of men came flooding from the house, all dressed in black. They all held guns … guns aimed at us …
Bullets … blood … death … blood … screams … guns firing … piercing … slicing … death … death … death …
My eyes snapped open and I tried to breathe. But all I could see was blood … so much blood … blood choking my throat … I gasped as the image of running blood filled my mind.…
Darkness came, and when my eyes opened again¸ I was hot, too hot. Sweat poured from my forehead into my eyes. But I couldn’t move my arms to wipe the sweat. Couldn’t move them even though they ached. Poison was burning my flesh from the inside; venom and something else crawled slowly under my skin, clawing to get out.
I couldn’t stand it. My stomach convulsed but no vomit came up my throat. There was nothing there, just pain. My muscles were squeezing in my thighs and back, pulling so tight they were snapping, trying to break from my skin. My saliva boiled in my throat. I couldn’t scream, couldn’t make a sound.
I lay on the floor, eyes watching the black walls as pictures and strange faces passed through my mind.
I couldn’t remember if even I knew them, Did I know them?
Then a face stabbed at my brain. My body jerked. Master. Where is Master?
Darkness came and went. I tried to scream as knives stabbed right through my stomach and came out the other side. My body shook as each blade sliced through, but I couldn’t move. I was too hot, too hot, but then I was too cold, too cold inside. My blood turned to ice, trying to push through my veins. My muscles froze, I was trapped on the floor.
My eyes suddenly closed, darkness pulling me down.
“Tie him to the table,” the man’s voice said, and someone threw me on a metal bed and strapped me down.
What are they doing? I was scared, so scared. I managed to turn my head, looking for help.
Then I saw him on a bed beside me. The boy’s brown eyes looked at me, and he mouthed, “Dzlieri. Be strong. Keep strong.” His fingers reached out trying to touch mine, and I did the same, but they didn’t meet. “Dzlieri, be strong, keep strong,” he mouthed again. I nodded my head as a man approached my table.
He ran his hands over my body, then the boy’s. “Identical in every way but their eyes.” He smiled. “They’ll be perfect.”
Two men held me down, then flipped me on my back. My head was forced down to the bed. I couldn’t move.
Fear ran through me and I could feel my hands shaking. But as I lifted my eyes, the boy was in the same position as me, two men in white coats holding him down. His head was facing mine. His eyes met mine and he silently told me to be strong, keep strong. And I did. I didn’t even scream when a long thick needle was pushed into my spine, when we were cut open, when we were beaten. Neither did the boy. We held each other’s gazes and never broke away.
A voice snapped me round. Voices—no, a single voice, the same voice that I heard every day. He was speaking in a strange language. Did I know what he was saying?
“Turn round and fight it,” he said. My eyes squeezed shut when I understood him. I couldn’t turn, couldn’t turn round. I wanted to growl, turn and cause him pain, but my muscles were weak, aching. I couldn’t keep my eyes open.
I was floating, my breathing slow, air was dragging into my lungs. Everything was still. I waited for Master. But no Master came.
My cheek was flat to the ground, my eyes were shut. But I was numb. My heart beat at a steady pace. It didn’t race or stutter. There was no pain, no fire inside.
But I was too tired. I couldn’t move, my blood was no longer hot. The knives were no longer in my stomach. There was nothing.
I lay for a long time until the sound of a door creaking open caused me to still.
Quiet footsteps approached. The scent of something sweet filled my nostrils, and for the first time in a long time, my body wanted to move.
My eyes stayed closed, my back to the approaching person. My hands clenched into fists and I waited, teeth gritted for them to get close enough. They had me chained. But were they Master or the guards? The sound of their footsteps, I couldn’t recognize.
I waited and waited until the person kneeled behind me, their breath shaking with fear. I hated fear. Someone told me once that fear made you weak.
Readying to strike, a hand suddenly pressed against my back and I fought back a hiss at the contact. Not reacting, the hand ran down over my arm and along my waist. It was soft, and I frowned. I didn’t understand. Had Mas
ter sent a female to me? Was this a test?
Anger about my confusion pierced my brain.
It was a test, had to be a test.
I had to kill.… Master always wanted me to kill.…
As the hand ran across my back, warm breath drifting over my skin, I snapped.
Jerking from my position lying down, I roared, rolled around, and reaching out, grabbed the attacker’s arms and crashed them to the ground, my body braced above them to strike.
My blood pumped with the need to kill and just as I raised my hand to smash into the face of my attacker, not even feeling the heavy chains around my hands, I glanced down.
And froze.
Huge brown eyes stared up at me, too wide and afraid. The strange female’s mouth was open, big pink lips trembling as her eyes moved to my fist in the air. My nostrils flared at her smell … my heartbeat thundered and my muscles twitched.
Long blond hair.
I stared at her and felt her shaking beneath me.
Her lips moved and I focused there.
“D-don’t h-hurt me,” she whispered.
My head moved to the side as I heard her voice. Her voice was strange, sounded strange, like the man that used to come in here telling me to fight. To fight the poison.
She tried to move so I pinned her down further. She gasped and the blood left her face. “Please,” she begged, and the rage inside me built.
Who was she?
Why was she here?
Master didn’t give me a command. I didn’t know what to do.
“I-I’m not here to hurt you,” she said. I moved my face closer. Her skin was lighter than mine, and she smelled so good.
I moved my eyes along her body. She was small. Too small. I’d kill her easily. Snap her neck in a second.
“Please,” she begged again, and her eyes went to my fist. Eyes narrowed, I lowered my fist and she inhaled a long breath.
I stared at her. Suddenly, heavy footsteps ran down the stairs. I snarled at the men approaching as anger invigorated my numb muscles.
Klavs, klavs, klavs, I thought when two men, dressed in black, entered with guns held high.
Guards. Enemy guards.
Klavs, klavs, klavs.
“Talia!” one of them boomed. They were talking to the female.
Gripping the woman by her arms, I pulled her to my chest, and moved back against the wall. Pushing her down on the ground, I stood in front of her, trying to rip free from the chains.
The guards were circling, guns aimed at my head. I growled, trying to swipe out with my hands. The chains held me back. Anger surged through my veins. I threw my head back and roared.
“Talia, get the fuck out from there!” one of the guards said, shouting to the female. I tried to understand what he said, when suddenly I knew.
He wanted to take the female from me. He wanted to hurt her. Wanted her for himself.
Running forward, I held my hands out trying to grip the man by his throat. He jumped back and the female screamed.
Pain shot through my head. Screams, females screaming … blood … guns … bullets. Thundering out a bellow, I dropped to my knees and gripped my head.
“Get out!” I heard the female say.
“Miss. Move!” the guard commanded. I tried to stand. I pressed my fist to the ground to try to lift myself, but I fell back down. The pain in my head was too much.
“I said leave! That’s an order!” the female repeated.
The men were silent, when the female again said, “Leave! Pereyti teper! Or so help me God I’ll have you punished for insubordination!”
“B‘lyad!” one of the guards shouted in response. “We’ll be watching. If he does anything to you, we’re coming back in to kill the fucker! I don’t care what the knayz’s instructions are. Keeping you alive is our priority. Those are your father’s orders.” I heard the footsteps leave and the door slam shut.
The pain left my head, but my heart still beat too fast. Muscles weak, I fell back to the floor. I could feel the female nearby, but my body was numb. I could barely move.
Forcing myself to turn, the woman was sitting in the corner where I’d put her. Her brown eyes were looking at me in fear. Her hands were still shaking.
I crawled closer, but the chains were too heavy. Collapsing to the ground, I stared at the female’s eyes, but darkness was taking me again.
Darkness was pulling me down.…
Chapter Seven
Talia
Zaal’s body slumped to the floor beside me, and I pressed a hand over my frantic heart, trying to calm down. I closed my eyes and inhaled through my nose. I’d been wrong. So damn wrong. Kostava wasn’t dead, he was very much alive.
I thought back to early this morning. Thought back to the moment I’d looked at Zaal’s lifeless body on my laptop screen. Thought back to the moment my heart chose to control my head.…
As I heard the front door close from downstairs, Ilya and Savin off to patrol the grounds, my palms twitched with the knowledge that it was just me in the house. Just me and Zaal.
My stomach filled with butterflies at seeing his beautiful face again. Checking in on him each morning had become my daily ritual.
Jumping from my bed, I made sure the bedroom door was locked and I ran to my laptop. Zaal had fallen asleep early last night before I’d gone to bed, after minimal movement all day. But I knew he’d be awake right now, right this minute. He was no longer pacing the floor and snarling at anyone who came near as of this week. Rather, he’d sit against the wall, his head often hanging low, his large body twitching and sweating. But he didn’t move. His jade green eyes were dull when he stared off into space, his attention fixed on nothing.
I didn’t know why, but I watched him, watched him lying there like a broken and abused animal. My chest would ache and no amount of rubbing over the skin could soothe it.
I’d always felt kind of trapped, mentally and emotionally lost in this Bratva life, and staring at Zaal Kostava, the man I was conditioned to hate, just broke my heart. Because he mirrored how I felt. Especially of late, I felt broken and scarred on the inside. He looked broken and scarred on the outside. I felt a connection to the Kostava. I supposed he and I were kindred spirits.
Opening my laptop, I expected to see Zaal in that same slumped sitting position, tied up in chains, hair matted and dressed only in the black pair of sweatpants Luka had insisted he wear when he was drugged that first night.
I clicked on the desktop icon, chose the camera for the basement, and waited with bated breath as it connected. As Zaal came into view, my heart immediately fell. He wasn’t sitting up as expected. He was still sprawled on the ground, body eerily still.
I leaned in closer willing him to move. But two hours passed and he hadn’t even flinched. A deep pit had formed in the center of my stomach. He looked … what if…?
I swallowed a thick lump in my throat and felt an unfamiliar hollow feeling in my heart. I knew he’d been getting worse, his demeanor had changed dramatically over the past few days. But he was strong. I thought he’d survive. I thought it was another phase of his recovery. He’d had several over the past couple of weeks.
Leaving my laptop on the dresser, I jumped off my bed. Hands on hips, I stared at the locked bedroom door and forced myself to do something I vowed I would never do.
I needed to see him up close.
I reached up and palmed the necklace lying on my chest. I thought of why my father had disapproved of Zaal’s rescue. Of why Luka had had to bring him all the way out here to the Hamptons rather than to a holding cell in Brooklyn. But no matter how much I tried to persuade myself not to do what my heart was urging me to do, a pair of jade green eyes would dominate my mind, taking it captive, and with it all rationality. Derr ‘mo! Those eyes! The sadness they held. The torture, the hurt and confusion shining in their depths, calling to me.
I had to go. He needed me.
Eto piz ‘dets! This is fucking crazy! I thought silently in Russian.
br /> Rushing to my door, I took a deep breath at the top of the stairs and frantically ran down. Savin and Ilya, clearly back from patrolling, came busting out of the kitchen.
“Ms. Tolstaia?” Ilya enquired, “What’s wrong?”
Pushing my hand through my hair, I said, “I was at my window and I think I saw someone outside. Maybe more than one. I can’t be sure?”
Savin straightened and immediately pulled out his Glock. Ilya moved toward me. He looked me straight in the eye and ordered, “Stay here!”
In seconds, they’d run out of the house. Knowing I had only a short amount of time, I hurried to the hidden safe, entered the passcode, and retrieved the basement key.
With shaking hands, adrenaline fueling my reckless plan, I arrived at the basement door. Without overthinking any rebuke from Savin, Ilya, or Luka, I entered the dark room and quietly closed the door behind me.
Pausing on the tiny landing, I inhaled a shuddering breath. Move, Talia, I told myself, just move. He needs you.
Leaving the key on a ledge, I placed my trembling hand on the handrail and began my cautious descent. With every step on the wooden stairs, my heart beat louder and louder.
When the expanse of the dark room came into sight, and my gaze fell on an unmoving Zaal Kostava, it took all my self-control not to rush over and beg him to awaken.
I couldn’t hear his breathing. His back was facing me, his oversize body curled into a fetal position, like the pain had been too much to bear. His bloodied and bruised arms and legs were completely stiff.
Reality hit home—he’d died.
Derr ’mo! What had Jakhua pumped him full of? Had whatever was leeching from his system for the past two weeks been too much for a person to bear? Even for a man as formidable as Zaal?
Folding my arms over my waist, I walked silently toward his comatose form, flinching as I saw the chains that held him so tightly in place. His tanned skin was pale and, finally seeing for myself that he was gone, I fell to my knees beside him and my shoulders sagged.